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just-come-baek · 2 years

Text

under the rose

Pairing: Joshua Hong x female!reader

Themes: 18+ smut | fluff | childhood frenemies to lovers!au | kinda historical!au (no specific time, but it’s not modern, like idk maybe 1950?)

Word count: 6k

Summary: You’ve known Joshua your entire life, and it has always irked you when he got praised for the same things you were scolded for. You hate these societal double standards thrown upon you almost as much as people who judge you for it. Thankfully, you have Joshua, who just gets you.

in other words...

They fuck on the blanket by the lake.

A/N idk what got into me

Although summer was officially gone, Mother Nature still spoilt people with sunny days and warm nights. Plants and trees all over the area were still in full bloom, letting the locals and tourists admire the beautiful landscapes.

The windows of your bedroom were facing the east. The bright rays of sunshine woke you up as soon as the sun rose over the crown of trees. With a smile, you stretched your limbs, happy to start your day.

Quickly, you opened the window, letting fresh air into your bedroom.

Enjoying the slight breeze, you walked over to your massive closet. You had no plans for today, nor you knew what to wear to celebrate this beautiful day. Too bad you weren’t allowed to leave the house in your satin sleeping gown. It was the most comfortable thing you owned. You didn’t give a fuck that men could find it scandalous or indecent.

You were always told not to provoke men as if it was your fault they couldn’t control themselves. It was incorrect reasoning, but for your mother’s sake, you decided not to speak your mind as openly as your heart desired. After all, these men weren’t ready to hear what the root of the problem was.

You tapped your chin in thought as you skimmed through your outfit choices, ultimately deciding to put on a cute summer dress that should appease your conservative mother. It was an A-frame white dress with little yellow flowers embroiled into the fabric. (Your mother insisted they were yellow roses, but to you, they looked more like daffodils.) It had cute tulip sleeves and a bodice – it didn’t offer a lot of support for your breasts, but at least it covered your nipples and fooled your mother into thinking you were wearing a bra underneath it. Carefully, you did the half-shank buttons that trailed up your sternum and tied a golden ribbon around your waist to accentuate your figure.

You looked like a prude, but despite all of that, you felt pretty.

Maybe a little bit of blush and lipstick could spice up your cute but upright look, you wondered as you rummaged through the drawer of your vanity. As it was officially autumn, so you decided to go with an orange palette, trying to match shades with your complexion.

Admittedly, it added a sexy edge to your overall look. Now, you only hoped your mother wouldn’t tell you to wash it off as it was inappropriate for such a virtuous young lady she thought you were.

You didn’t put much effort into your hair; you brushed out all of the tangles and put on a headband. That was it. The wind would ruin your hair anyway if you tried properly styling it.

“Good morning,” you said to your mother as you walked downstairs for breakfast. She was drinking her morning tea as she glanced at you, trying to find flaws in your appearance and expurgate them.

When she didn’t say anything to put you down, you figured you passed her censorship test today. Good, because you didn’t even try to anger her, you just wanted to enjoy yourself outside.

“Good morning, honey,” she said as you sat down by the table opposite of her. Smiling, you reached for the bread and spread raspberry jam over it. “Joshua came by earlier. He’s such a nice boy. He asked you to meet him by the lake. Of course, I said you’d join him,” she announced, and you nearly dropped your knife upon hearing his name.

Joshua Hong was your mother’s best friend’s son, and your mom sometimes (always) acted as if she loved him more than she did you. Whenever you had guests over, she would go out of her way to brief them on his whereabouts and eulogize him at every given chance.

Joshua always accompanies his mother to church. Joshua graduated at the top of his class. Joshua rescued a dozen of puppies from drowning.

You were sick and tired of her Joshua this, Joshua that. If only she knew what he was like when mothers couldn’t see him... You were basically the same age, so you hung out with him quite often throughout your childhood and adolescence. Although unwillingly, you knew him inside out, and he most definitely did not fit your mother’s description.

“Thank you,” you finally said, offering her an unconvincing smile. “I’m dying to see him. It’s been too long,” you added, your voice full of sarcasm (which your mother thankfully did not pick up on). Smiling, you stuffed your mouth with the toast as you wanted to be done with breakfast quickly. You could only stop yourself from giving mean comments for just a while, and you didn’t want to upset your mother with your point of view on Joshua’s behavior.

“It’s nice to see you so eager to see him,” she beamed, incorrectly reading your intentions.

“Right…” you said, pouring juice down your throat. “I should get going. It would be rude of me to keep him waiting,” you added with a fake smile spread across your face. Your mother must’ve found your considering tone a bit strange, but she ultimately decided to believe that you grew up.

“Joshua is such a gentleman. There are so few of them nowadays,” she carried on, and you rolled your eyes at her comment. Your mother could read people like a book, and you still didn’t know how Joshua managed to fool her.

Having sat on the bottom of the stairs, you put on your shoes, carefully tying the shoelaces.

“Wear the nice ones,” your mother commented as she picked up your everyday muddy shoe and threw them back onto the shoe rack. You didn’t want to argue with her, so you listened to her, knowing your feet were going to hate you in the evening. Maybe the pumps were pretty, but it wasn’t the footwear of your choice. It was impractical. Joshua was waiting for you by the lake. That’s about thirty minutes away on foot from your house.

“I shall be back for dinner,” you said, even though you were going to return much sooner. Even if Joshua wanted to see you and talk to you, it was one-sided. You’d just go there and tell him to go home and stop bothering you.

You loved being outside. As soon as you set foot on the porch, rays of sunshine hit your face, making you smile in content. Despite Joshua’s short visit and request, it was going to be a beautiful day.

Slowly, you strolled towards the lake, humming to yourself as you mentally tried to plan the rest of the day. You could pick some flowers for the vase that was sitting on your nightstand as the old bouquet of white camellias started to wither. Then, maybe you could go to the swing set and watch the sunset.

It sounded like a good idea.

You felt pain in your heels. Cursing under your breath, you hoped you didn’t get blisters.

Finally, you reached the lake. Joshua was waiting for you by the pier, holding a paddle. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked hot in his white shirt. Three top buttons were undone, showing a lot of his neck, collarbones and chest, while his sleeves were rolled up all the way to his elbows. His light brown trousers, black shoes, and matching suspenders looked great on him.

“Took you long enough, love,” Joshua greeted you, sending you a bright, genuine smile. “Don’t you look beautiful today,” he added, carefully studying you from head to toe. His sight was definitely better than your mother’s – Joshua instantly picked up on the absence of your bra, what made him shamelessly smirk.

“What do you want, Jisoo?” You asked, cocking up your eyebrow. You hated when he referred to you per love, so you also decided to rile him up by using his Korean name. You were the only one who had the balls to call him that – ever since childhood he hated it when people did that. “Your early visit got my mom unreasonably excited. I wouldn’t be too surprised if she already started planning our wedding,” you deadpanned.

“You should be happy. I’m quite a catch,” Joshua replied, smugly smiling at you.

“Ew,” you commented, turning your face in disgust. “You better talk to my mother and undo it. I wouldn’t marry you even if you were the last man on Earth,” you demanded, hating the way Joshua’s insignificant actions had huge impact on your life. You weren’t going to suffer the consequences of his shenanigans.

Instead of giving you a reply, Joshua sighed and shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side.

“I meant no harm. I just wanted to ask you to come here and boat with me,” Joshua said, pointing at the small wooden boat tied to the post on the pier. “We used to do it a lot when we were children.”

You hummed, reminiscing. It really was your tradition. Every summer you could come here and have a lot of fun. Usually, one of you ended up in water, almost drowning. (Nine out of ten times it was you, since Joshua was a sore loser and didn’t know how to treat you like a lady.)

“Fine, but if you try to push me into water, I’m dragging you down with me,” you warned him before you marched past him in a straight lane to the pier.

“Ladies first,” Joshua replied with a wide grin as he tried to catch up with you.

Carefully, you got on the boat and took a seat at the front. You figured if it was Joshua’s idea, he would sit at the back and do all the paddling. After all, you were a lady, and everyone would frown upon seeing you do such a manly labor…

Smiling at you, Joshua rowed the boat to the middle of the lake.

When he had his mouth shut, it was rather peaceful. You could feel the sun and wind on your cheeks as you close your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the last bits of warm weather. The sound of water and faint chips of birds echoed in your ears. Admittedly, the little boat trip felt nice – until Joshua decided to interrupt the soothing silence with his annoying voice.

“Why do you hate me so much? Is it something I have done?” Joshua asked as he tossed the paddles to the side beside your legs.

“I just do,” you replied, having no intention to elaborate. It’s just the way you felt – you didn’t owe him any explanation. Joshua needed to understand it and leave you alone.

“We both know it’s not true,” Joshua egged you on, and you rolled your eyes, regretting meeting him today. Too bad Joshua began that topic only when you were stranded on a boat with him in the middle of the lake.

Maybe it was a lie, but you were never going to admit it. You didn’t hate him – you hated that he got praised and applauded for things you always ended up getting reprimanded for. No matter what you did – you were always judged and put down. And if Joshua did it – he was a noble gentleman.

“Come on, love,” he urged you, nudging your knee with his. “Talk to me. Let me fix everything.”

Although you knew he meant no harm, his words riled you up even more.

“That’s the problem,” you sighed, looking away. “I don’t want you to do anything. Even if you tried, you would make everything worse,” you concluded, realizing no matter how charming Joshua could get, he had no power to solve the societal problems you often fell victim to.

You remembered the one time you went hunting with Joshua and Jeonghan. At first, your mom hated the idea, but Joshua somehow convinced her it was safe for you to accompany them. Needless to say, you shot down three pheasants while Joshua and Jeonghan none. You had no experience, yet you turned out to be better than them.

However, the real cherry on top was when you returned come for supper. Your and Joshua’s moms were ecstatic when you brought so much food home. Unfortunately, happiness turned into disappointment when you told her it was you who had hunted them. That night, not only you got scolded for engaging in a typically male activity, but also for disobeying Joshua.

Just the thought about that day made your blood boil in your veins.

Joshua seemed concerned. Whatever made you feel that way, he wanted to change it.

“Is it about Sooyoung? I’ve already told you that I don’t like her like that,” Joshua wondered out loud, even though he suspected his guess was incorrect.

“What? No! It’s not about her,” you confirmed, your voice getting louder. “I never understood you. Sooyoung is literally perfect. Every man wants to marry her,” you started, but Joshua quickly interjected you.

“I don’t,” he admitted with no hesitation in his tone. “Even if she’s perfect, she’s not you.”

Joshua’s words made you gasp in shock.

“What? Did you want me to come here to mess with me?” You asked as you stood up to lean in and flick his forehead. You were somewhat friends – such love confessions were way out of line!

“Of course not,” Joshua quickly reassured you as he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from inflicting any pain. (You have flicked Joshua’s forehead so many times throughout your friendship his skull was impenetrable at this point.) “I mean it. I love you as a friend and as a woman. Can’t you see it?” Joshua asked, staring into your soul. His lips were twisted into a genuine smile as he waited for your reaction.

Joshua Hong loved you.

His confession left you speechless. There were some signs along the way, but you decided to ignore them. It was easier that way. Even if you cared about Joshua as much as he cared about you, you still couldn’t marry him.

Everybody always told you it’s a wife’s duty to submit to her husband, yet you adamantly refused to give into that mindset. Since early childhood you were taught how to serve a man, and you hated every second of it.

If anyone ever gave you a chance, you could prove you were equal, or better than a man. Too bad no one ever treated you seriously.

Despite your feelings for Joshua, you had to reject him. As long as society considered women as lesser than men, you had no interest in marriage.

“Do you have feelings for me, too? Or am I an idiot?” Joshua continued as he pulled your wrists down gently, so you’d lean forward a bit. You were bent in an uncomfortable position as you stared into Joshua’s eyes, wondering how to phrase your rejection.

“That’s not important,” you said, and Joshua frowned, not liking the tone you set for the conversation.

“Of course, it’s important! That’s literally the only thing that matters,” Joshua argued, massaging your wrists with his thumb, hoping his gentle moves could soothe you.

“I can’t be with you. You deserve much, much more.”

“I don’t want more. I want you.”

“I can’t,” you said, your voice breaking.

“Why?”

You dreaded that question. Joshua wouldn’t understand. He’s a man, and you doubted he could see the issue from your point of view. Fuck, even your female friends didn’t get your reasoning.

“I hate it. I hate all of it,” you confessed, letting your bottled up frustrations out. “I hate the idea of marriage. I hate taking orders from people. I hate being judged for everything I do. I hate being perceived as less worthy. I’d rather become a spinster than marry. You have to understand it.”

Joshua knew you better than anyone, and he completely understood where you were coming from. He could see the despair in your eyes whenever someone made an unfair comparison to you. He could see the change in your mood when someone suggested you shouldn’t do something.

“I should be offended. I had no idea you think so lowly of me,” Joshua spoke up, his eyes avoiding you as he tried to properly word the rest of his speech. “I know you. I know you hate these things. I’d never treat you like that. I love you the way you are. You’re stubborn, independent, and fierce. There’s not a single thing I’d change about you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I want you to challenge me. I want you to correct me when I’m wrong. I want you by my side wherever I go. I’ve always treated you as equal, marriage won’t change it,” Joshua said, pressing a chaste kiss against your knuckles.

His affectionate gesture shocked you. Instinctively, you yanked your hands out of his grasp and took a step back. Unfortunately, you failed to coordinate your swift movements. Due to a sudden change of weight, the boat wobbled to the sides, making you lose your footing.

You put your hands in the air, trying to find your balance, but when Joshua stood up to steady you, you tipped off the edge and fell into the cold water with a shriek.

After a few seconds, you resurfaced and coughed out water that accidentally got into your mouth and nose.

“Hong Jisoo! I hate you,” you yelled, kicking your feet in a feeble attempt to stay on the surface. Although you knew how to swim, the cold water seemed to slow down your reflexes.

“Here,” Joshua shouted as he stretched his arm, hovering over the edge to hoist you up. “Grab my hand,” he ordered, laughing at you.

“I’m going to murder you someday, Jisoo,” you warned him as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into water with you. “Maybe sooner than later,” you added when Joshua swam up to the surface and shook his head to the side, trying to get his wet hair out of his eyes.

“You little–

Joshua tried to catch you and make you regret, but you were a faster swimmer.

“Come back here,” he shouted after you, but you just laughed as you tried to distance yourself from his wrath. “I’m not kidding,” he carried on, sending a plethora of threats your way. You, on the other hand, were ignoring him as one of your legs was already hooked over the boat’s edge.

Giggling at Joshua’s antics, you waited for him to swim closer to the boat before you helped him out.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Joshua muttered, giving up the stink eye. “Let’s get back to the shore. I left there some towels and blankets.”

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean? I’ve known you my entire life. Every time we’re here someone ends up in the water,” Joshua concluded as he sat up and put the paddles in the hooks.

“Let me help you,” you said as you sat down beside him, yanking one paddle out of his grip. You weren’t a damsel in distress – you could prove yourself useful. Besides, you needed something to keep you warm, and paddling seemed a perfect solution to your problem.

“Your mother would kill me if she knew I let you do that,” Joshua commented as the both of you put your muscles to a good use. Quickly, you paddled to the short in great synchronization.

“You better get used to it because I intent to live my life how I want it,” you replied, laughing. “Besides, she loves you. If she had to kill any of us, it would be me.”

“Hopefully, we’ll never find out.”

As soon as Joshua tied the boat to the post, you ran uphill where he left the picnic basket under an old oak tree. Initially, he thought it would be nice to enjoy a meal after the boat ride.

Quickly, you wrapped a towel around your frame, trying to dry yourself.

“Come here,” Joshua said as he tossed his towel on your head, aggressively drying your hair.

“Stop it,” you hollered as you rolled your towel and smacked Joshua’s butt with it.

“Truce. Truce. Truce,” Joshua shouted, trying to block your attacks. “Are you still cold?” Joshua asked, staring at you fondly. You nodded, and Joshua wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug before he began rubbing your limbs, hoping friction could help you warm up.

“I hate you,” you muttered as Joshua pulled you against his chest and kissed the top of your head.

“Good girls don’t lie,” Joshua pointed out, and you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Have I ever been good?”

“Fair enough,” Joshua chuckled, tightening his grip around your frame. “But you don’t hate me. In fact, I think you love me.”

“Thinking has never been your strong suit,” you teased, poking his chest with your forefinger.

“Doesn’t matter because you still love me,” Joshua proudly remarked, ignoring your jab.

“Jisoo–” you started, but you choked on your breath when Joshua’s hand slapped your butt. It took you by surprise – you didn’t expect Joshua to do that as well as you didn’t imagine you’d like the stinging sensation. “But you’re right. I love you, Jisoo,” you added, earning another spank on the other butt cheek. This time, Joshua applied a little bit more strength, making you stumble forward and press against his crotch.

“Hopefully, after we get married, you’ll call me by my name,” Joshua said with a sigh. Gently, he massaged your butt, holding you in your place, so you could rub yourself against his cock.

“You can try and make me,” you carelessly answered, adjusting the wet collar of his shirt. “Joshua. Joshua. Josh. Shua. Joshie,” you tried different variants, but there was something lacking in the way it rolled of your tongue. No matter how many times Joshua tried to correct you, he’d always be Jisoo to you. “See? It sounds weird. I don’t like it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Joshua winked at you, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Are you hungry? I’ve brought some sandwiches,” he asked, pointing his head at the basket.

“Not really,” you admitted, giggling under your breath. You had a lot of fun and all the happy hormones that were cursing through your veins made you forget about hunger. Though you you’d never admit it out loud, you’d rather cuddle and kiss him.

Smiling at each other like idiots, you sat down on the blanket. Joshua had his back pressed against the tree, while you sneaked your way onto his laps.

“We’re gonna be in so much trouble if someone catches us,” Joshua commented as he looked around, hoping to not see any prying eyes.

“Worried about your gentleman reputation?” You teased as you squirmed on his laps, pressing yourself against his crotch again. Getting caught with you must’ve excited him, and you could feel the hard evidence trapped in his pants.

“Not one bit,” Joshua admitted, smirking at you. “You’re here with me, so I don’t mind.”

“Good to know,” you innocently replied, batting your eyelashes at him. “So… I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind if I did that,” you carried on as you lowered your hand and cupped his erection, stroking it gently through the fabric.

“I’ve been dreaming about it for years, love. I’m shameless, and I don’t care,” Joshua confessed, and you shied away by his straight-forward statement. “I want you to touch it and do much, much more,” he added as he placed his hand over yours to help you properly feel all of it.

“You’re a devil, Hong Jisoo,” you concluded as you leaned in, letting your breath tickle his full lips. You were maybe an inch away, waiting for him to close the distance and finally kiss you.

Staring into your eyes, Joshua cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips against yours, kissing you gently. His soft nibbles were driving you insane. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage quickly as you shut your eyes close and kissed him back, letting yourself get lost in delight.

Joshua put his hand in your hair, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, pushing your lips apart with his tongue, making you moan into his mouth. For him, it was the most sinful sound he had ever heard, and it instantly made his blood rush down to his throbbing cock.

Suddenly, Joshua flipped you both, so you were lying flat on your back on the blanket with him on top of you, trailing wet kisses down your neck, careful not to leave any marks. If your mother found them, she would kill the both of you despite your honest intentions.

“I will never get enough of you,” Joshua muttered as his mouth slowly moved towards your cleavage. “I still can’t believe your mother let you leave the house without a bra. What was she thinking?” He carried on as he glanced at your breasts, your nipples peeking through the soaked fabric.

“Can we stop talking about her? I’m sick and tired of that woman,” you snapped, feeling angry. She was your mother, but she didn’t even try to understand you. The only she could do was to punish you for your disobedience. Thankfully, you’d move out soon, giving her enough space to reflect.

“Sorry, I was just –

“It’s okay,” you smiled as you ran your hands across his chest and wrapped your legs around him. Smirking, you pushed Joshua to the side and climbed on top of him. Joshua knew you were feisty, but he never expected you to try to dominate him. Now, when he was under you, he didn’t mind you taking the lead. Admittedly, you were incredibly sexing doing so.

Staring down at him, you slowly undid the buttons of your bodice, letting your breasts fall out of it due to the lack of support. Joshua’s eyes were on you, biting his lips as he watched you in admiration.

“Every inch of you is just… breathtaking,” Joshua confessed, shamelessly staring at your breasts. They slightly bounced whenever you inhaled and exhaled, but when you grabbed and kneaded them in front of his face, he almost came in his pants. You were astoundingly erotic, and Joshua had to fight his inner urges to remain in his place.

When Joshua’s brain malfunctioned at the sight of your bare breasts, you roamed your hands across his chest and shoulders, undoing the buttons of his shirt and pushing his suspenders off his shoulders. Who knew it was that easy to shut him up and keep him busy.

Taking your sweet time, you peppered his chest with delicate kisses while your hands disappeared under the hem of his trousers. Joshua hissed the moment your hand grabbed his erection and gave it a few cautious pumps, spreading the precum across all of it.

“Do you like it when I touch you like that?” You asked, smirking at him.

“More than you can imagine,” he admitted, gently thrusting his hips upwards, needing more attention than you were currently giving him. Dreams and sexual frustration that he had accumulated through the years were making him act desperate.

“Then pull your pants down, okay?” You asked him, and Joshua eagerly raised his hips and freed his hard cock. “You’re so big,” you admitted with a gulp, wondering if he was going to fit.

“Don’t worry, love,” Joshua smiled, reassuring his dick wouldn’t break you in half no matter how hard he was to fuck you. “I’ll prepare you for it,” he added before his hand slipped under your dress. Carefully, his fingers pulled your panties to the side, allowing him access to your clit.

“Oh my,” you whispered, tilting your head to the back when you felt a pulse of electricity run through you thanks to Joshua’s fingers. The pads of his digits gently rubbed your clit and smeared your juices across your folds. “Please,” you moaned as Joshua pushed one of his fingers inside of you, curling it.

Your breaths were uneven, your back was arched as Joshua scissored you. In no time, his entire hand was drenched in your dripping essence, and it required Joshua to flick his long fingers inside of you a few times.

“Jisoo,” you breathed out, ready to welcome the pleasure that was building up in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s not what you should call me, love,” Joshua spoke, pulling his fingers away, leaving you frustrated. “Come on, it’s not that difficult,” he urged you, hoping you’d cave. After all, he wanted to finish the job and see you come on his fingers. “You can do it.”

“I seriously hate you right now, Hong Jisoo,” you stubbornly said to which Joshua decided to raise his knees, making you stumble forward against his chest. Thanks to your quick reflexes, you didn’t hit you face against Joshua’s chest.

“Do you want me to get mad?”

“Depends,” you stated with a giggle. “Do we still make love if you’re mad?”

“You’re impossible,” Joshua huffed, thinking what he should do with you.

Was it even that big of a deal? Everyone called him Joshua. You weren’t everyone – you were special. And Joshua was special to you.

“Don’t be mad,” you cooed, drawing swirly shapes on his bare chest. You knew he couldn’t resist you; it was only a matter of time for him to forgive you for the relentless teasing. “Please,” you begged as you rocked your hips, rubbing your clothed sex against Joshua’s painful erection.

“I’ll let it go just this one time,” Joshua said before he harshly pulled you down to give you a rough kiss. “You’re just asking to be punished, but I’ll let it slide for now,” he added, and you trembled. His tone was stern and domineering, you had no doubts he meant what he said.

“I want you inside of me,” you confessed as grinding against him wasn’t enough.

“Take off your dress first,” Joshua ordered as he grabbed the hem, willing to help you pull it over your head. “So you can act like a good girl… you just refuse to,” Joshua concluded as he tossed your dress on the grass next to the basket.

“I’m a good girl when I want something, and right now, I want you to fuck me,” you shamelessly admitted, not even trying to sound like a lady. You were aroused, and with Joshua’s hard cock under you, you paid no mind to proper manners.

“I should’ve figured this one out,” Joshua said under his breath as he hooked his fingers under the hem of your panties and tore them apart, getting rid of the annoying fabric that was in the way. “Since you’re so eager, why don’t you fuck yourself on me, huh?”

Joshua’s sinful words rang in your ears, making you dizzy. It was an order you were more than willing to listen.

Tentatively, you wrapped your hand around Joshua’s cock and aligned it with your entrance.

“Just like that, love,” Joshua whispered, urging you to keep going.

Stress was eating you from inside. You had no experience in sex – you just heard a few detailed stories from your married friends. Sometimes it hurt. Given Joshua’s impressive size, it was going to apply lots of pain.

“Take it slow, love. You’re going to be alright,” Joshua reassured you, reading you as if you were an open book. “There’s no rush,” he added, and you nodded, cautiously rubbing the tip of his cock across your folds.

“Oh my god,” you panted as you slowly sunk on his pulsating length.

“That’s it,” Joshua cooed, trying his best not to thrust from beneath until your walls stretched around him. Your teeth were clenched as you slowly got used to every inch of his impressive erection.

Frankly, you expected it to hurt more. You had period cramps worse than this.

“It feels nice,” you mindlessly said, feeling his cock throb inside of you.

“Only nice?” Joshua teased as he grabbed your butt and gave it a few squeezes.

“I want to ride the hell out of you,” you confessed as you started to rock your hips up and down his cock. Your rhythm was uneven, but you didn’t care. You were chasing your release, and you needed to figure out the speed and angle to make yourself come around him.

“Just like that, love. Keep going,” Joshua moaned, giving you lots of compliments to encourage you to let go and give into your primal urges. The harder you bounced on his cock, the less you could hear him say. “Fuck,” Joshua cursed as your walls began tightening around his erection as if trying to squeeze all of his release.

“I can’t, I can’t,” you groaned as the upcoming pleasure started to overwhelm you. You didn’t think you could feel this good, and your orgasm was yet to come.

“You can, and you will,” Joshua ordered as he grabbed you by your hips, holding you steady, thrusting from beneath you. You were slowly losing your stamina, and Joshua needed to help you. After all, it was your first time – it needed to be magical.

“Josh-

“That’s right, love. Come,” Joshua egged you on, smug about the slip of your tongue. You absentmindedly almost called him by his full name, and Joshua was going to remind you about all the time. (While also hoping such happy mistakes could happen more often.)

“Oh my god, Joshie, I’m coming,” you moaned at the top of your voice, knowing it was so loud people on the other side of the lake must’ve heard you. “Fuck,” you cursed as you arched your back, letting the pleasure consume you.

The way you were spasming around him pushed Joshua over the edge almost at the same time. Screaming your name, he thrust all the way in, emptying his load deep inside of you.

“I love you,” you murmured against his skin as you collapsed on his firm chest. Your mind was still a bit cloudy after reaching your peak. Gently, you drew random shapes on Joshua’s chest, trying to focus on breathing.

“I love you, too,” Joshua confessed for the nth time today, casually kissing your temple. “I could lie here all day,” he added as he pressed you closer.

“Let’s not push our luck here,” you jested as you propped on your elbow to look into his eyes. “It’s a miracle no one has caught us yet,” you carried on, looking around and hoping you and Joshua were here alone. However, you felt so blessed right now – getting caught would be definitely worth it.

“We should make ourselves look decent,” Joshua said as he sat up, pulling out his flaccid cock out of you. His release began to ooze out of you, so he scooped it with his fingers and pushed it back inside.

“Define decent,” you challenged as you reached for your dress and threw it over your head, trying to quickly cover yourself. As long as your breasts were in his line of vision, he didn’t make any effort to cover himself. Too bad you weren’t in his bedroom. He could make love to you for hours.

“Do you have any plans for the evening?” Joshua asked when he came back to his senses.

“Why?”

Joshua just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Do you want to sneak out tonight? We could hang out or something,” Joshua offered, and you smirked, a few ideas crossing your mind. “Or maybe you want me to sneak into your bedroom? That sounds just as fun.”

“Sorry, I have plans,” you deadpanned, bursting out laughing a second later after seeing Joshua’s pouty reaction. “Just kidding. Wait in front of my house at 10. My mother should be asleep by then,” you instructed him before you jumped to your feet and ran away.

“I can’t wait!” Joshua hollered, already counting time until your next meeting.

“Me, too!” You yelled as you put your hands in the air, waving at him in excitement. “Don’t be late!”

#joshua smut #seventeen smut #kvanity #joshua fluff #seventeen fluff #joshua #joshua hong #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo

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randomfoggytiger · 1 month

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Seasonal Color Analysis: David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and Their Colors

If anyone wants to see more in-depth about David and Gillian and their colors, click to read more; but if you're okay without the extra details, no worries! We'll catch up on the next X-Files meta post.

Quick Summary of my first post: GA and DD both have red undertones (as seen in the above picture); but the red does not overtake the yellow in DD's skin (giving him a Warm Hue undertone) while the red tips over the scale into pink for GA (giving her a Cool Hue undertone.) GA is a Clear Winter, meaning her chroma (High) is first consideration when it comes to colors compared to their Hues (warm or cool); David is a Soft Autumn, meaning his chroma (Low) is also first consideration when it comes to Hues (again, warm or cool.) Because undertone does not change or fade with age, the same application for their younger selves applies still in their 50s and 60s.

TLDR: Explaining myself a little further with DD and GA's colors photoshopped near their face-- providing receipts, if you will~.

Saw a few posts (reblogged on my timeline if you're curious) and wanted to clarify some points I made on my color analysis post here:

David, Gillian, and Jewellry

David still has his warm and red undertone-- which doesn't change with age-- and can pull off cool colors as well as his predominant warm ones because he is Soft Autumn (meaning: if the chroma of whatever color remains muted, he can pretty much swing it.) He is encouraged to wear bronze, silver, pewter, rose gold, and other metals that err on the muted side.

Gillian is encouraged to wear White and Platinum jewelry over silver because of those metal's bright, cool undertone because she is a Bright/Clear Winter (if she were a Summer instead of a winter, silver would be advised for its muted, cool undertone.) She can also pull off gold because of her Bright Chroma (present in the warm yellows of her Bright Winter Palette, shown below.) Gillian is going to look great in some Springs instead of some Winters because of the Chroma consideration of her skin: if the color, cool or warm, is muted, she doesn't look as fantastic as she would with brighter colors, cool or warm. It's hard to tell with her modern appearances because of the frequent use of body tan, but her skin is naturally quite pale and cool and porcelain. If her outfits verge too warm, then her hair becomes brassier, and her skin takes on an orange tinge.

DAVID IN HIS COLORS

Here is the Soft Autumn palette below:

And here are my (bad) editing attempts of David in said colors:

The greens below even bring out more olive in his skin (compared to the very warm red usually present):

When David is swatched with Winter and Autumn colors, the differences really show up, I think:

The Winter swatches are vastly cooler than his skin, giving it a muddied, grayed out appearance; the Autumns, however, inject a level of warmth back into it, complimenting his undertone no matter what lighting he's in.

Lastly, here's David in a Winter muted Hue (left) and a Autumn muted Hue (right) to demonstrate the swatches a bit better.

Although he likely had very little sleep when filming either scene, David looks washed out, drained, and tired in the black; and significantly less tired and washed out in the brown.

GILLIAN IN HER COLORS

Here is the Bright/Clear Winter Palette below:

When GA is swatched with Spring and Clear Winter colors, the difference becomes more pronounced, I think:

As you can see, spring colors aren't bad; but the winter colors bring out a delicate, healthy pink to her skin (and hair.) Specifically: the nude shade on the left is warmer peach compared to her skin, whereas the nude shade on the right blends into her cool pink undertone quite naturally.

And lastly, here's Gillian in a Spring bright Hue (left) and a Winter bright Hue (right) to demonstrate the swatches a bit better.

There's a "GA vs. the shirt" quality the blue Spring has that the white Winter does not.

Masculine v. Feminine Aesthetic Footnote

I think I covered everything in my beautiful first post here and the follow-up response here. Have at!

CONCLUSION

I hope my facts are all in order, and that I haven't forgotten to present anything that might lead to more confusion, etc.

If we don't agree, all well and good.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

**Disclaimers**: All resources taken from dear peachie, The Concept Wardrobe, The Dream Wardrobe, and other free source sites.

#Seasonal Color Analysis #Part III #David Duchovny Gillian Anderson and Their Colors #dear peachie #randomfashiontiger #fashion #DD #GA #Soft Autumn #Clear Winter #Spring #Winter #Autumn #Summer #analysis #mine #thoughts #meta

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aquagirl1978 · 5 months

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Undressed - Kicho x Reader (Ikemen Sengoku)

A/N: My first entry for Ikemen Prompts Week 1 hosted by @ikemenprompts. Also part of Falling For You Content Creator Challenge hosted by @judejazza and @nightghoul381.

Pairing: Kicho x Reader

Prompt: Mirror/Love/Color Palette (Ikemen Prompts Week 1) and Coloured in Fire (falling4uccc)

Word Count: 628

Tags: fluff with some spice

“Kicho…it’s beautiful.”

Beautiful was an inadequate word for the fabric that rested in your hands. Exquisite. Luxurious. Opulent. But even those words couldn’t fully describe the beauty of this material. The rich rouge silk was thick yet soft, perfect for the cooler weather. Embroidered gingko leaves were sparsely scattered in shades of rose pink and peachy orange.

Smiling like a kid in a candy store, you held the fabric in outstretched arms, admiring how the smooth silk draped over your fingers, the colors of autumn dancing before your eyes.

He cupped your cheek in his hand, his pleased smile crinkling his hazel-green eyes. “I thought you could use this to make a dress for the party.”

Your eyes widened in a panic. The party. His party. That he was hosting.

“But that’s only in a few days!”

Kicho’s green eyes glittered as he offered you a sly smirk. “Then you better get started.”

******

Standing before the mirror, you preened yourself like a parrot as you fixed your hair. It was definitely a rush to finish, but you completed your task just in the nick of time.

Gazing into the mirror, you admired your finished product - an exquisite kimono in all the shades of autumn. The thick fabric draped elegantly over your body, the soft silk caressing your curves.

You were thrilled to have found some leftover fabric in a rose pink shade that complemented the kimono to make the perfect obi. Picking up a delicate gold and garnet hairpin, another gift from Kicho, you tucked the finishing touch behind your ear.

Kicho was silent as he entered the room, his steps as quiet as a cat’s. You didn’t notice him until you felt his arms around your waist, his warm lips brushing against your cheek in a chaste kiss.

“You look radiant,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “Like you’re coloured in fire.”

Your face flushed with heat at his words. And Kicho was right – the overlapping fan-shaped leaves flickered like flames across your body.

“I knew as soon as I saw this fabric that it was perfect for you.” He ran his palms down your sides as he gazed adoringly at your reflection in the mirror. “Do you know what ginkgo leaves symbolize?” he murmured as he guided you towards the bed.

You shook your head, his body leaning over yours, words escaping you as he lightly traced the outline of a leaf right above your beating heart. “Longevity. Endurance.” As he placed his palm over your heart, his lidded eyes sultry as he gazed into yours. “That is my love for you,” he whispered before his lips met yours in a passionate kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you deepened the kiss, a muffled sigh leaving your lips as he pulled your hips tight against his. His hands left your waist, a soft groan filled the air as his palm slid down your thigh.

Forget the party, your body wanted to scream. Take me now.

But you had to attend. You both did, as it wasn’t just any party, but a celebration for Kicho’s birthday.

Pressing your hands upon his chest, his heart pounding in his chest, you broke the kiss with a quiet whimper, knowing full well that if you kissed any longer, you would both soon end up undressed.

Not now, not yet, he said with his eyes, his soft smile stoking the fire inside you.

“I nearly forgot…” Turning back to the vanity, you picked up a small square of fabric. “I made this for you,” you said, handing Kicho the handkerchief you made of the same silk of your kimono.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @lordsisterxotome @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @ikehoe @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @lucyw260 @scorchieart @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @judejazza @xbalayage @xenokiryu @randonauticrap @oda-princess

“Happy Birthday, Kicho,” you said as your fingers lingered on his. “Let’s go now, before we’re late for your party.”

#falling4uccc #ikeprompts week: one #ikemen series #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #kicho #ikesen kicho #ikemen kicho #ikesen fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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Moving Up

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader part one – part two

Summary: So, you’re getting a house together. Joe takes you out to a fancy dinner and decides that simply moving in with his girlfriend isn’t enough. CW / disclaimer: fluff, rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, Author’s note: no angst, just giggles. Charlie’s in this. It’s not as good as the first chapter, but, it’s building. Wordcount: 4k

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It’s 5:45pm when you’re in the bathroom, doing your makeup and you receive two photos from Joe. Blue suit. Brown suit. You reply with a brown love heart. You receive a voice note in return. “I’ll be there in 15.” His voice is so full of love, you comically retch at it. After finding out Joe wanted to get a house with you, he said he’d come pick you up for dinner that night. “It’s going to be fancy, so prepare yourself mentally if you must. I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”

It was also your last night before he’d be off a couple of days. Germany, you thought it was. Promo, press, interviews. You knew Joe hadn’t packed yet, so knew he was going to have to do it the next morning. With your help. You opted for a champagne-coloured dress. It was a silky number, one that clung to your figure, and you weren’t sure how this fabric managed it nicely, but it did. You know how slippy silky fabrics can cling wrong? Hug the terrible bumps instead of the good ones, its sheen not able to hide any texture underneath? It wasn’t unusual for you to receive a massive ASOS order, only to find that you’d have to send all items back because none of the dresses clung right. Joe didn’t understand; they all looked the same, and your figure looked good in all of them. But then you’d found this dress, and you’d spun in front of the mirror and asked him, “Does it cling wrong?” and Joe had been instantly aware he was on thin ice. But he had just looked at your ass and said, “Look at that.” before bending to bite at it. And so, you’d kept it. It was the only dress that you owned which you felt sort of fit the vibes of an autumn colour palette. You knew it would look nice when you’d take a selfie in an elevator-mirror together later that night. You know, the only thing actually important when dressing up and going out. When you heard your front door open, you were curling the last couple of strands of your hair in the bathroom. Joe was early, but you were mostly ready. Make-up was done, most of your hair was done, and you were in your heels already, but the straps weren’t done up yet. Joe swung ‘round the corner of the bathroom door and leant in its frame. You looked at him in the mirror and you both made faces at each other. You’d been ridiculous, and both felt dumb about it. You sigh with relief at the sight of his outfit; Joe had paired the suit with a white shirt, and it looked good next to the shade of your dress. “Shit,” Joe commented, and you realized he was taking you in, eyes scanning over your body slowly, just as you had been doing to him. He wasn’t wearing the jacket, though. “Blazer?” you asked, and he showed it flung over his arm that had been hidden out of your sight. “Nearly finished.” You said, turning your attention back to your hair, letting it drop from the barrel, only to pick up another piece to twirl back around it. Joe just stood there and let his head rest against the frame. He was just looking, and you found his eyes in the mirror again and he grinned. “We’re such a stupid couple,” you referenced the night before. “The stupidest,” Joe agreed, and you saw his eyes wander to your ass. It shouldn’t have affected you like it did, not after years together, but a swell of butterflies in your stomach fluttered up into your chest. Joe was unashamedly ogling and for a second you thought that only slightly arching you back to push out your ass could get him hard. Before you can properly finish the thought, Joe suddenly knelt and it startled you until you felt Joe’s fingers at the straps of your shoes, delicately closing them for you. His fingers trailed up your legs lightly as he stood back up, making you squirm, and you used your hips to push him aside with a laugh. It made Joe chuckle. You unplugged the curling-wand and gave your glossy waves a last touch and tussle before turning towards him. “Ready.”

Joe had forgotten. He'd forgotten what it was like in public with you looking the way you did. It made other people turn heads, men with other women quickly moving to put on sunglasses to shield their eyes so their girlfriends wouldn’t see their stares. It was only a short walk from where you'd climbed out of the taxi, but the number of eyes on you was almost shocking to Joe. He wasn't sure if he'd ever noticed it before, but then again, he also couldn't remember the last time you looked like this and were out in public together. He knew if he had seen you walk past, he'd be sneaking a look too.

Staring at the menu, you fought the urge to just ask for chicken fingers and chips. You just wanted some good food that’d fill you up. Joe was trying to help by pointing out what would go nicely together with the wine you ordered. But he knew you, and when he peeked over his own menu and saw you blankly staring at a page, not really reading any of the words, he decided to take it from you. “Meat or fish?” “Meat.” And then Joe decided for you. When the waiter had taken your order, Joe leant in, hanging in his shoulders, elbows perched up on the table. “Did you get me simple dishes?” you asked. “The simplest.” Joe confirmed. “So, I have to get something off my chest…” Joe started. You knew he was going to tell you about the houses he’d been to see, but Joe’s choice of words made it too easy for you to mess. “Is it your shirt?” you were almost not even saying it, your voice a near whisper but your annunciation over the top so Joe could lipread. “Please let it be your shirt.” Joe let his head fall and hang in front of him before whipping it back up and grinning widely. “It’s not,” Joe started at normal speaking volume, inside voice, but then copied you and mouthed, “my shirt!”. Joe went on to confess having gone to see houses with help from one of his friends. He hadn’t found the right spot yet, and his plan was to slowly let the idea of living together filter through into your head. Joe should’ve known that things don’t usually slowly slip its way into your brain. Everything tends to cannonball itself in, and then you act. Not enough thought or consideration. It’s why you suggested Joe moving in with you – the simplest solution you could see at that moment. And Joe hadn’t spoken, but in his mind, he’d been encouraging you to think deeper. Willing you to find the next few steps by simply looking at you. Explore other options. Joe had quietly tried to coax you into his train of thought, but you had found different railroad tracks and had set off speeding away from him. Now that you were in on the jist, he wanted you to come along with him to view houses in London. Obviously. You were giddy with excitement, and it only took a couple of seconds for the two of you to take your phones out, finding websites with listings, swiping through pictures, sharing wishes you have for your living space. You wanted outdoor space. Joe needed a room just for clutter (you know he means your clutter – its fine, you are aware of your own person). You wanted a bath. Joe wanted enough counterspace in the kitchen. You wanted not too far outside of zone 2. Joe wanted a good area, familiar grounds. You wanted a guest room. Joe wanted ensuite. When the main course gets placed in front of you, you can’t help but think the artful way it’s been put together is so very pointless. You’ll be eating this. It doesn’t need to look like this. You weren’t sure why it got on your nerves so much, but it did, and so you quickly took a fork and messed with the presentation before taking your first bite. “I'm proposing to you.” Joe’s comment made you freeze mid-way your first bite. It's not ‘will you marry me’. It's a statement that needs no answer. You don't get it. There's no ring. It's just Joe's words and his eyes on you, your mouth full of food which must have looked charming, you were sure. “If you’re only asking now if I want to move into a house with you, bit late mate,” it made Joe chuckle and shake his head no. “No I’m proposing.” He clarified, but it didn’t help his case. "To be married?" "Not really." Oh. Cool. Your boyfriend had lost the plot and his grin started worrying you, making you move back in your chair a little to fully take him in. "Joey… have I not been clear before?" it was an earnest question, your voice overflowing with concern. "I'm not proposing to you to marry you." Yep. Okay. Definitely insane. Where’s the nearest mental hospital? you thought. “Because… I don't believe in marriage.” you finished for him, your words coming out slowly to make absolutely sure that the both of you understood and he nodded. “I agree, we don't need it.” your shoulders dropped with relief. You had been clear before and Joe did understand. “So…?” you coaxed him. “So. I’m not really proposing.” Joe stated, and you sat back fully against the backrest of the chair to look around the room, utterly confused. Are people hearing this man speak this nonsense? “But emotionally it could mean the same.” Joe shrugged, going in for another bite.

"Joe, what the fuck do you mean?" Joe laughed, finding smug joy in your confusion. “I just think we'd be pretty good proposed to each other.” “Just, to be proposed?” “Yep.” “Joe, this,” you motion a finger between the two of you, “is enough. It's all I need, no fancy names, no other labels, no church or-” you started reciting things you’ve said before. Joe had heard it all before, loud and clear, so he stopped you. “I know. But... it's nice anyway.” Joe shrugged. And you couldn't believe it, but you agreed. It was nice anyway. You took a moment to have a bite and chewed slowly before speaking. “I'm not going to call you my fiancé.” It’s not exactly the yes Joe wanted to hear, but it also wasn’t a clear no. “Good. Because we're not getting engaged to be married.” “But we'll be proposed?” “Not really. But yes.” It's unbelievable, it made so little sense, but it fit you perfectly. You felt excitement bubble in your stomach. Proposed. Not to be married. Just.... proposed. “Wow. Getting a house. Now proposed,” you make big eyes and shake your head. “Big day.” “I also want to tell people.” Joe wasn’t quite finished yet. “Sure, of course,” you frowned as you nodded, eyes on your meal. This food was good. You think of how Joe was going to explain this to his parents. His dad would never understand. His mum wouldn’t either, but she’d never let it on, and she’d just be supportive and happy for you, you were sure. In turn your dad would definitely poke fun. Stupid kids, don’t know what the fuck they want. “People people.” Oh. Joe meant the public. “Yea?” You challenge him. “You’re going to be happy explaining this situation a million times to confused, judging faces on long boring days of press in stuffy hotel rooms with little to no smoke breaks?” you scoffed. Joe nodded his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at the ceiling in doubtful thought. “Okay so maybe not the full thing,” a silence lingered. “But I could casually slip that my girlfriend is a wonderful support?” It’s a careful question, and you let it mill in your mind. “I am a wonderful support.” You nodded slowly, giving Joe a metaphorical finger. He caught on and decided to figuratively reach for a full hand. “She’s my biggest fan. But also very grounding, so down to earth, exactly what I need in these crazy times.” “She’s also smoking hot,” “Oh, the hottest of them all.” Joe agreed, brow furrowed as he nods. “Smarter than you,” you were pushing it now. Joe pulled down one corner of his mouth and widened his eyes. “I mean sure, she sometimes tells me something she thinks I don’t know yet and I indulge her because she’s very cute.” You gasped and pretended insult through a laugh. “But she is smart. And strong. And fierce. So pretty. Just, gorgeous and-” you shut Joe up by leaning over the table and kissing him. Joe grinned into the kiss and twirled his fingers around your chin to pull you back for a quick second kiss before you sat back down. Stepping out into the broody London air after dinner, Joe had put an arm around you, hooking your neck into his elbow. The hand that hung down your chest had found your hand and you wore his arm like a scarf. Joe liked showing you off, taking the opportunity to curl you into his body more and kissing you on your temple. You looked up at him, heart bursting at the seams. You walked right up to some waiting black cabs after a short walk, checking the lights on top to see if one was available. “You alright mate?” Joe was quick to be polite to a driver he made eye contact with and asked him how his night had been. “Bit slow,” the man had answered, opening his door to the backseat for you. Joe gave him your address before following you into the taxi.

“I’ve proposed to her tonight.” Joe sat down on the fold-down chair up front to talk to the driver as he sat down behind the wheel. Trust Joe to turn full blown extravert after getting a couple of drinks into his system. The taxi driver turned in his seat and made big eyes at you as you smoothed down your dress after scooting down the seats. “Did you say yes?” You smiled and nodded. He proceeded to ask to see the ring. You gasped dramatically at Joe before turning back to the driver. “He didn’t get me one!” you pouted and tried your very best not to smirk at Joe, who laughed in defeat. “You got engaged but didn’t get her a ring?” the man accused him through a smile. Joe slumped and let his head fall. “We’re not enga- … never mind.” You laughed loudly. It perfectly proved your earlier point; this thing took too much effort to explain to others. Even attempting it now, just after it happened, memory as fresh of it as it was ever going to be, Joe couldn’t bother diving in to clarify the whole ordeal. The driver pulled up into the road, and before Joe moved to sit down next to you, he told the driver to stop at a McDonalds if they passed one. You wanted to protest, but Joe had moved over to sit next to you already and had taken hold of your legs, slinging them over his lap. “Don’t lie, you’re still hungry.” Joe said before moving in for a kiss. And you were still hungry. Your hand had been trying to find the seatbelt behind you, but Joe’s kiss completely pushed it to the back of your mind. Your boyfriend breathed heavy open-mouthed kisses into your face. Oh, this man had plans. You glanced over to the driver in front of you when Joe pressed his face into your neck, and you made eye contact with him in the rearview mirror. The instant panic you felt made you want to move your legs back down from Joe’s lap and sit up, but then you saw the driver reach to move his mirror upwards so he could no longer see you. It was a silent approval of what was happening in the backseat of his car, and so you gave over to Joe’s touch. It didn’t take very long for the car to slow down to a stop, right next to a McDonalds. Joe said to keep the meter running- a stupid request. It was going to be far easier, and way less expensive, to just get into another taxi later. Happy, with lips still swollen and slightly flushed cheeks from making out like teenagers in the backseat, now with a little box of chicken nuggets in your hands, you stood outside on the pavement next to the taxi as Joe lit a cigarette. The AC inside the McDonalds had been programmed to freezer settings, so Joe had courteously given you his jacket which hung heavily around your shoulders. You’re not sure how Joe had done it, but tonight you’d fallen more in love than you thought possible. And even though you detested his habit of smoking, you couldn’t deny he looked sexy. Joe blew out a puff of smoke away from you before noticing the chicken nugget you held out to him. He responded like an excited schoolboy before taking the whole thing down in one bite. A kiss that tasted of salty chicken nugget and tobacco followed. “Some days,” you started, finding another nugget in your little cardboard box. “I really fancy you.” What you meant was; some days Joe would remind you why you loved him so. There were days where it didn’t even cross your mind at all, but then days like these would come along and you’d constantly wonder if Joe was even real. “Some days?!” Joe sputtered. “I fancy you all the time!” It made you snort before scrunching up your eyebrows. “You fancy me???” your voice high pitched. “That’s so embarrassing!” you smirked at him as his face deadpanned. “What a fun way to make me regret wanting to buy a house with you,” Joe joked back, finishing his cigarette and reaching for another one of your nuggets. You moved away from him and covered the box with your palm, not letting him take one. “Should’ve thought of that before proposing to me,” you challenged him. “Someone proposed to you?!” Joe feigned surprised shock. “Where’s the ring?” he said, reaching for your hands in search of one. Your mouth dropped aghast, and you were quick to flip him off, in turn giving him the chance to quickly sneak your last chicken nugget. The following morning, Joe was extra clingy. He had asked you to come along with him, but you had other obligations. Joe had scoffed at you. “Other obligations,” he had repeated you, brows furrowed, unsure what could possibly be more important than spend the next three days in Germany with him. You’d been right before; it was Germany. For three full days. You’d been apart from each other for way longer, but to Joe, three days away from you felt terrible. “It’s just bad timing,” you said before reminding Joe of the fun he’d have, doing your best to get him to let go of you for just a minute. It was getting on your nerves a little. Joe’d just been holding onto you as you did your make-up. Then he’d just been holding onto you as you made breakfast. And then later, after making your way over to his flat, Joe was just holding onto you as you finished packing his suitcase, because he wasn’t putting any effort in. He said he couldn’t. “I have other obligations right now,” he mocked you, the obligations very obviously being his hold on you. But you wouldn’t have Joe being in the same outfit for his whole trip. People would notice and comment on it, you knew. So, you helped him pack, suitcase open on his bed, folding up different outfits while Joe stood behind you, arms tightly around your waist and a heavy head on your shoulder. He was just watching what you were doing when suddenly, you reached for something from your bag. You were fast to spray some of your perfume into his suitcase before Joe could try and stop you. Just to tease extra, you sprayed some on Joe’s arm too, making him fight the bottle from your hands.

“Y/N…”

“So you won’t forget about your proposed girlfriend, all alone at home.” “I don’t need to smell like her!” Joe laughed, sticking the bottle back into your purse. “That’s what you say now, but just wait until your second night in an empty hotel room. You’ll be so happy you can grab a T-shirt and smell me.” Your voice is overly shaky, imitating an emotional very homesick Joe. Joe never got homesick. Not even a little. But it was still funny none the less. “It’ll deter the other women I’ll invite up to my room, sure,” Joe joked, and you slapped him on his arm that was still holding onto your frame before zipping his suitcase shut. You checked the time and knew that Charlie was going to be there any minute. You decided that for these last few minutes, you’d actually hug Joe back so you twisted in his grip and you just stood in his bedroom for a bit, arms 'round each other. Your arms were underneath his, but on his back, they curled up to cover his shoulder blades. When you flexed your fingers your and pressed your nails in to grab on extra tight, Joe wiggled under your touch. "Don't," he warned, knowing what you were planning on doing. You didn't listen and tightened your grip more. It made Joe move his hands to cover your arms to pull them away from him. But you'd already jumped up and swung your legs around his hips, holding on to him like he was a tree. He laughed a loud “No!” but widened his stance to hold you up with his knees. You felt him start to lose balance and before you completely toppled over, your feet found the floor again. Your hands remained in place and you looked up at your grinning boyfriend. "Handsome." you said cutely, making Joe roll his eyes at you. "Listen, you can't call me handsome if you're not going to hand me some-" but Joe was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. It was Charlie. He was outside. You tagged along with him to say goodbye outside and watch them drive off. Stepping outside, Charlie was stood on the pavement, having a quick cigarette before the nearly one-hour drive to the airport. You greeted each other in a short hug as Joe put his suitcase in the back of the car with help from the driver. “Joseph proposed to me last night,” A proud smirk tugged at your cheeks. “What?!” Charlie made big eyes at Joe before congratulating you in another hug. “Oh my God, congrats on getting engaged?!” It came out of his mouth like he couldn’t actually believe it. For good reason. Charlie knew you. “It’s not…” Joe smiled through a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut for just a second. It confused Charlie even more. “We just…” Joe started, but then sighed as he looked at you, barely able to hold in your giggles. “I’ll explain in the car,” he concluded before reaching out to give you a last hug. “We’re also getting a house together!” you added, fanning the fire. This was far too much fun. Joe caught Charlie’s facial expression behind you as you hugged. “That too.” And it made you laugh. A couple of kisses, promises to call every day and overly dramatic waving through an open car-window later, Joe was gone. "I always think my whole situation's complicated, but you two are something else, mate" Charlie commented when Joe put on his seatbelt and closed the window. "Yeah, well," Joe made a face, and Charlie laughed as he pat him on the shoulder. part one

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joey quinn #joe x reader #joseph x reader #part 2 #moving up #fanfiction #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n

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stubblesandwich · 6 months

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MORE of your house of colour ted talk please, that was really interesting to read!!

Oh my gosh, I'm so happy you enjoyed my mini TED Talk/crazy person rant in your tags.

For those who don't know what the HECK I'm talking about, I reblogged this fantastic little gif set and went off in the tags about how lucky we all are that Colin O'Donoghue happens to be a winter.

So for those unfamiliar, everyone fits into a color palette or season, according to House of Color, which came about in the eighties and is based on color theory. The idea is that based on your skin's undertone, hair color, and eye color, you fit into a "season" of color. You're a spring, autumn, summer, or winter. Spring and autumn are on the warm end of the color palettes, and summer and winter are the cooler seasons. Think warm oranges in fall and bright, sunny greens in spring. Bright blues and berry pinks for summer, harsher whites, blacks, blues for winter. Makes sense, doesn't it? (Honestly, it took me a long time to understand it all, but once I did, it kind of broke my brain and I can't unsee these things. 🙃)

Well, I make the case that sir Colin O'Donoghue, our dear Captain, is a winter. And we are so damn lucky that he is. Do you know why? Because winters are the only season who can truly pull off black. 😎 And true red, actually! Because of the high contrast between their features and their cool undertones, winters look amazing in high contrast, vibrant cool colors. Those colors don't wash them out like they would other seasons.

Let's get down to the photo evidence, shall we?

Here we see Colin in all his smirky glory.

Now, we all know what this man looks like, but let me point out the obvious. Dark hair, light eyes. The contrast between the two is high, allowing him to pull off a more high contrast color, such as black, white, and that vibrant blue at his collar. His skin has a cool undertone (which is a whole other thing but just trust me there for now). You can see a more pink look to his skin, instead of a warmer yellow undertone. It's easier to see on people with lighter skin, but you can also determine undertone on folks with darker skin. So, there you have all the makings of a true winter.

What does that mean, in terms of clothing and picking out colors that will complement your features? Let's look at some pictures of Colin NOT wearing colors in his winter palette and maybe you'll see what I'm talking about.

Now, you'll never see me on this website saying this man looks bad in these photos. Obviously you'd be hard pressed to make Colin look unhandsome in anything you put him in. But just take a look at him wearing this muted wine colored shirt. His features don't pop at all, like they normally do. It's doing nothing for him. He'd actually be better off just wearing that white undershirt, in terms of making his features pop. And then the photo with the beige on the right is just... I mean, we can all see that's not good, right? We can all see those colors are doing nothing for him? Winters and beige don't mix. Beige is on a winter's no-no list.

It was actually difficult to find photos of Colin not wearing colors in his season. He actually does pretty well for himself, in that regard. He generally wears cooler colors and a lot of black. Here's another photo example though of him in a warm, olive green. Does he look ugly? Absolutely not. Would this sweater look better on him in black, or almost any shade of cool blue? Absolutely.

The olive color washes him out, actually. Let's compare this to Colin in a bright white and dark blue, below.

See how his eyes pop, and his skin doesn't look so washed out? The olive green sweater seen above is a warm green, which would look fantastic on someone in the autumn season. On a winter, though, it just doesn't work as well. And because I love Colin in blue, here are some more examples of him wearing his colors well.

Now, you might be saying to yourself, "Tori, you silly goose. You're forgetting about the magic of lighting benefits, and also the magic of facial hair, which is basically makeup for men." Sure, I'll give you that. Most men look better with stubble or a light beard, and lighting helps. I take you now to my next example of Colin not in his best colors.

The white undershirt and the blue tie are great for Colin! The rust brown suit, however, makes me feel yucky inside. I keep using this phrase, but you can see how this color is just not doing the man any favors. It doesn't help bring any vibrancy to his features in any way. Let's compare these now to (the moment we've all been waiting for) Colin wearing black and see if we can tell a difference.

Do you see how his eyes look brighter, and his skin tone doesn't look so muted and washed out? The skin beneath his eyes isn't as shadowed, either. People generally look healthier when wearing the colors that suit them best. Now, add in Hook's eyeliner to make those blue eyes pop, and you've got some real magic.

Winters also look great in red. (Think of Monica Gellar, also a winter, in her signature red from Friends.) Let us not forget Killian's fan favorite "red vest of sex", as seen below. Someone in the costume department really knew what they were doing with Colin, it must be said.

It's also important that they had him wear silver jewelry, instead of gold, as silver goes better with cool undertones. And how fortunate are we that they cast a man who naturally looks so good in black? The whole "little black dress" as a closet staple for women simply doesn't work for so many of us who just don't look good in black. The only season that truly shines in black is the true winter. ✊🏻 More power to them.

TL;DR Colin looks fantastic in black, and there's a scientific reason for it. Emma didn't stand a chance against not falling for Killian Jones, and neither did we.

Thank you for attending my TED Talk.

#colin o'donoghue #captain hook #killian jones #tori answers asks #house of color

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pumpkzsafeplace · 7 months

Text

anon questions 💌 : cute makeup tips for fall!

- with halloween coming up, it’s time for us to feel like the main character this fall! so here are some tips! <3

little is more! ⭐️

in my opinion little is more!

i love using concealer & using makeup to highlight my actual beauty and identify instead of covering it to be someone i’m not <3.

of course cover what you feel a little insecure about, but also use it to highlight things you find pretty!

for example i use eyeshadows to make my blue eyes pop! or use less makeup to highlight my freckles! <3

remember that there is nothing more beautiful that you & your healing journey <3

❀•°❀°•❀

embrace a nude lip! 🌙

a nude lip is one of my favourites to use! not only is it subtle- but it can go with bear enough every outfit choice if paired correctly!

the warm colours of a nude lip too just remind me of autumn and it’s warm tones! ah it’s just so cute! <3

another good thing about nude lips is if you’re not allowed to wear makeup (but want to!) you can look for lipsticks in your lip shade so that it looks subtle and unnoticeable but makes your little heart happy n content <3

❀•°❀°•❀

blush, blush, blush! ⭐️

i LOVE blush so so much!

i think it just pulls a makeup look together and the rosier the cheek- the cuter the look!

especially as we edge towards the colder months in the year, it just portrays such a cozy feeling!

never be afraid to experiment with it! <3

❀•°❀°•❀

dots & hearts 🌙

personalisation to a makeup look is one of my favourite things to do!

usually it’s a heart, or a little dot or sometimes even protection sigils!

but as we get deeper into fall, you can use this personalisation aspect to make your looks either more cosy or spooky! your choice!

you could draw some leaves, some pumpkins, some spiders! the choice is yours! <3

❀•°❀°•❀

dark & glitter! ⭐️

glitter can make any outfit pop!

which is why i really enjoy wearing it as eyeshadow during the colder seasons as it just holds a ‘festivity’ element about it!

however if you’re not allowed to wear makeup- my tip would be to use darker eyeshadow (a nude palette would be best) there you can create light shimmer to your lid or even just some dark shadows to deepen your look!

remember makeup is all about expression and creativity! it’s not targeted to one specific gender at all! if you want to experiment with it- then go nuts! <3

gif isn’t mine

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fixing-bad-posts · 1 year

Note

What’s your favorite color?

i don't really have a favourite colour so much as favourite colour combinations, though purple is pretty much a winner in every shade/hue, and phthalo green is enchanting. favourite combinations include #f2a4d3 with #646464, #730000 with #000000, and #000d55 with #f3f355. i tend to prefer cool colours as jewel tones. warm colours are split between floral palettes (which i prefer pastel) and autumnal palettes (which i prefer rich).

#ask fbp #urlocalsadkid-l

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braisedhoney · 6 months

Note

please tell me about the pigments i would love nothing more than to hear you talk about that one shade of red you like and the process it took too recreate it

... oh, op. you have no idea what you've unleashed.

alright. here we go.

OKAY SO THE RED PIGMENT. pr206. my beloved. my dearest friend. it was an absolute bastard to find because there are so many of these. however many you think there are, there are MORE, and that's only if you don't count the many many scenarios where colors are known to be multi-pigment mixes, usually varying in tone/shade/intensity depending on the brand and manufacturing style. some colors are more consistent than others, but there are situations where a color can be named the same and contain the same pigments and STILL look wildly different depending on the ratio, binder, and paper you use. and that's not accounting for the way the pigment is processed. some pigments (like pv19 for example) can come in so many shades it's frankly kind of ridiculous.

anyway, my quest begins when i am, admittedly, in an edgier phase. i want a blood red, but not specifically because of that—no, i want it because it is THE IDEAL COLOR (to me) for a perfect, warm, slightly muted but still intense shade to add to a muted autumn watercolor palette. and... if you look at my whole theme, you probably know how much i love warm colors. i want to paint mushrooms. i want to dim down some of the brighter greens to make them autumnal. i want the perfect red to put as an undertone.

the search starts in earnest.

the immediate issue is this: reds (and purples and pinks) have horrifically bad lightfastness. not all of them, mind, but many are NOTORIOUS for fading under uv light, which means they will also fade if exposed to sunlight even in passing should it happen often enough. and—in especially bad cases where they're essentially working with dye and not pigment—they can even fade inside your notebook. inside of a drawer.

so not only are we working with an unfortunate pigment base (i'm simplifying here, there's way more nuance to this but shh) but we are working with one that skews heavily toward floral pinks or oranges. the red i'm searching for is warm, but not orange. dries dark but not brown. is transparent, not opaque. that last part is agonizing, because i also desperately do not want a color that will fade on me or generally destabilize, and most of the stable dark red pigments are EARTH pigments like red ochre (pr101) or the like. which, while fascinating because of their historical usage in things like pottery and even cave paintings that last to the modern day, are VERY OPAQUE. this is an issue with my preferred style of watercolor painting specifically, because opaque pigments tend to lift easier off the page and limit layering.

the search continues. pigment after pigment breaks my heart for one reason or another, drying too close to the cooler purpleish-red tint of wine at best. i think i find it in perylene maroon, but the drying shift (the difference between how a color looks wet vs after it dries on the paper) is so extreme that it loses the luminosity AND it's more opaque than most. i languish.

for a while my search turns to creation. i try and mix as many of my single pigment colors as i can into something that vaguely resembles what i'm looking for—so i take quinacridones and mix them with napthols, with nickel azos, with dashes of ultramarines and burnt sienna. everything turns out either just a bit too opaque, just a bit too muddy (that happens with multi-pigment mixtures, and is why so many people swear by single pigment colors. it's personal preference, really, great art can be made either way.)

still, nothing works. failure haunts me. i sit before a pile of used up watercolor paper that is literally covered edge to edge in nothing but similar red squares with various gradients and blooms as evidence of when i tried and failed to convince myself my efforts were close enough. i admit defeat.

in the meantime i shift my focus. i try and appreciate different color palettes and profiles, experimenting with things like fully transparent palettes (personal favroite) to fully opaque ones that function more like gouache. but despite finding appreciation for it, i still think about the damn red that i could never recreate. it kills me.

and then one day, a youtube video. a pigment is being discontinued, and the watercolor community is distressed. this happens a lot, because pigments are actually not always popular because of artists—sometimes beloved colors are put out of production because larger markets like car companies no longer find them popular enough to invest in. this time, the casualty is pr206, aka brown madder, aka quinacridone burnt scarlet.

let me tell you a little about quinacridones. they are genuinely remarkable colors. they have their own cult followings because of how bright and abnormally stable they are under uv light. they're transparent. they're luminous. they come in mostly shades of red and pink and purple, though there are a couple oranges and yellows in there. (there are no quinacridone blues, as far as i'm aware, but the phthalo blues have that category covered.) they also rewet beautifully, so you can put them on your palette and let them dry and not worry about it turning into a useless little rock of color that you can't get any pigment from anymore.

quinacridone magenta (pr122) is probably the most popular of these, the most often used besides maybe quinacridone violet (pv19). a few years prior we suffered the loss of quinacridone gold (po49) and since then people have been On Alert when it comes to losing these colors. i am one of them, because i never got the chance to even see po49 in person, and now the tubes are so stupid expensive that even the student grade versions go for Ridiculously High Prices on ebay, and the professional brands are being hoarded like (ironically) gold by anyone lucky enough to have a tube left over.

but back to our main character. not me, the pigment. pr206. i have legitimately never heard of this one, which to be fair is probably because i try to limit the random colors i fixate on since the hobby can easily get VERY expensive if you aren't careful. but it's a quinacridone, and that catches my eye.

i open the video.

now, i'm sure any artist out there will be familiar with the fact that screens don't display color consistently. it depends on your device, but most can agree that something that looks cooler on one may be warmer on the other, it's just what happens. but i see this color being swatched, and my brain implodes.

it's almost a perfect match.

it could work. it could. years of thinking that same thought have left me bereft and mistrustful of this specific quest marker, but the thought refuses to leave me. probably because the 'discontinued' label flashes like a neon sign.

i resist for about six months, and then i cave. at this point i have genuinely been trying and failing to find this color for upwards of five years. i am desperate, and the color might not be available anymore soon anyway, and apparently i am weak to sales pitches. (note: the color IS now unavailable in some brands, but others bought a decent supply and should have it available for at least a little while, alongside po48 which is quinacridone burnt orange, a favorite of mine and probably one of the only oranges i use regularly. both are discontinued officially, but they'll still be on sale till those supplies run dry.)

the color arrives. i grab my favorite brush. i pull out my stash of paper that i save for special occasions.

it's almost perfect.

i mix it with quinacridone burnt orange.

the result is, i swear, a perfect match for what i have been searching for.

it's warm. it dries dark but not dark enough to look brown. it keeps its luminosity (thank you quinacridones). it's fully transparent (thank you quinacridones). i genuinely feel the urge to weep, but i don't because i am clinging at last to the dredges of my sanity and also salt makes watercolor pigments behave differently and i will not risk this glorious moment. finally, after all these years, bill cipher has a gun i found the goddamn COLOR.

i mix it with warm yellows and with my favorite blues. with the pinks, just to laugh. life is beautiful and i am painting its sunsets, and i do not care if they look ridiculously messy. i have won.

the moral of the story is to never give up. or maybe it's to remember you never actually know everything about even the fields you love the most, because this color totally blindsided me despite being much more common than i expected. or maybe it's that i seriously needed to chill out for a while.

but yes. that is the tale of one (1) of the colors that has taken up residence in my soul. i hope you don't regret asking now lmao.

#ney's art tips (art questions)#ney's chatter (ask answers)#so also i said that a good alternative to pr206 is pr175 #but i'm actually not totally sure about that because i've never tried it myself #watercolor is an expensive hobby and that's part of why i swapped to digital orz #BUT! from comparisons i've seen they are at least similar enough to scratch the itch #ironically i think i still USE po48 more than i do pr206 #but that one is also In Discontinued Limbo where you can buy it but supply is indeterminately limited lmao #still a gorgeous color though.#... wow. this was incredibly niche and probably barely coherent i am so sorry LMAO #but thank you for indulging my color madness. it was the only hobby i had for *ages*.#long post #very very long post #good god is this my longest text post? aside from maybe a hive story?

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janelovesims · 2 years

Photo

Werewolves GP - Sweater tucked

Important things you need to know :

Werewolves GP required

Palette by @double-plumbob

Mix of Patterns by Mothz Here & Here

45 two-tones & 36 patterns

2 files (dl both or dl one)

Standalones with CAS thumbnails

Gif preview without editing (but I have a lighting CAS mod)

Enjoy ♥

Download (simfileshare without paywalls obv)

^ PSD available for creators ♥

Preview inspo @georgiaglm ♥

@mmfinds @love4sims4 @cchunters @maxismatch4sims @maxismatchccworld @maxismatch @s4library

#ts4 #ts4 clothes #ts4 recolor #ts4 recolour #s4 clothes #ts4 clothes recolor #ts4 cc #ts4 mm #maxis match #ts4 werewolves #autumn shade palette #JaneLove #j

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sugar-petals · 2 years

Text

MASTERPOST: k-pop idols and personal color analysis

↳ with a special masterclass on warm and cool undertones. welcome to the world of seasonal color typing.

this post is for you if:

you want to know what looks great on someone and why.

look for a timeless aesthetic theory that’s universally applicable on anybody.

like to train your eye with image analysis.

enjoy men’s couture, make-up and hair. i specialize in analysing the gentlemen, there’s fewer material on them out there.

want to see why k-pop idols get colors professionally draped to find out their best palette. (like nct’s ten below.)

this post is not for you if:

you want quick & easy information. it takes time to learn and practice color analysis. but: i’ll show you some hacks, too, and give lots of visual examples.

seek to directly find your own best personal color palette. this is more about kpop styling > advice for self-typing.

are familiar with the topic and look for set-in-stone answers: just in advance, i’m not an outstanding typist. i’m better at explaining the system itself.

think i’ll hit you with the color wheel. yes, personal color is related to this; hue, tint, and shade. but that’s about it. we won’t use this model 😂

that being said, let’s start without further ado:

INTRODUCING THE SIX COLOR FAMILIES.

(...if you want to note down any vital key words from this post, this is it)

how do we distinguish color in the most basic ways? with the following dichotomies.

↳ warm VS cool,

↳ soft VS bright,

↳ light VS deep.

NOTE - for some color analysts, soft is ‘muted’, bright is ‘clear’, and deep is called ‘dark’. it’s the same thing, i use both terms.

so far, so good. it’s pretty intuitive. but let’s understand how these categories come to be:

warm means added yellow. cool: of course, simply more blue.

soft means extra grey. bright has more saturation, strength.

light means more white added. deep means added black.

let’s sort some yoongi selfies into the 6 families so you can see what i mean. if you feel like he’s especially rocking the right-hand side, you will see where i’m going.

how warm or cool = temperature of color.

how soft or saturated = chroma of color.

how dark or light = value or color.

as in these examples below (tentative, this is just an approximate illustration), every human being falls into one among six tonal color groupings that matches their appearance the very best.

it makes them pop, even if other palettes might be great also it looks the most harmonious. it’s their home, their strongest suit. everybody has a skin undertone (≠ skin color) that’s either on par with cool or warm tones which is the primary distinction, and deep or light, bright or muted color. there are lots of possible options of color palettes for each family.

these 6 color families provide the subtypes of the 4 main ‘seasons’ which are the pillars of the whole system. hence, seasonal color analysis. this system has been around since the early last century and is as timeless as the name suggests.

congruently, let’s distribute the subtypes:

two seasons are warm-toned (Spring/Autumn),

two are cool-toned (Summer/Winter),

two light (Spring/Summer),

two deep (Autumn/Winter),

two bright (Spring/Winter),

two soft (Summer/Autumn).

you’ll understand it in a minute. i found this graphic spectrum helpful, take a second to think it through — again we have temperature, value, chroma.

say if the color is warm, it can only be spring or autumn. a light color can only be spring or summer. and so on. it’s that straightforward. there’s always two each. and every person’s best palette is found in one slice of this pie.

i love the idea of comparing seasons to people. we’re working by exclusion principle/narrowing it down to type someone here. say, if an idol looks dashing in cool colors that are also very bright and deep, they are a winter.

so that’s how the 6 families distribute among the four main categories. i know, it’s a lot to memorize. here’s a representative color each, and an overview that’s simpler.

and yes, it’s quite literally the colors of landscapes during those times of the year. like in nature, all of us are either spring, summer, autumn, or winter (and one of three subcategories, so there are 12 possible types in total).

let’s use some broad examples to summarize:

1. spring colors are warm, bright, light (like a flowerbed or meadow in the morning) — stray kids’ felix

2. summer colors are cool, soft, light (like the beach or city at daytime) — bts’ jimin

3. autumn colors are warm, soft, deep (like falling leaves at dawn or a cozy home) — nct’s jaehyun

4. winter colors are cool, bright, deep (like a snowy night or crisp barren landscape) — bts’ yoongi

within these four archetypes, we can categorize the 6 color family subtypes as beautiful 12 (non-exhaustive, there are many more options) palettes. example:

notice how:

the early two seasons are less shaded. spring and summer are very subtle.

spring/autumn have a lot of yellow base: they are GOLD.

vivid the later seasons are. autumn and winter are the pretty heavy ammo.

and how blue-base crisp and cool summer/winter look like: they are SILVER.

not all golds and silvers are created equal, some are lighter, other shades are deeper. but the general guideline for beginners is: cool season = blue/silver like yoongi and warm season = gold/yellow like namjoon. easy hack:

both can look good on a person, but one either distracts from the face/doesn’t do anything for you while the other makes you glow refreshed. that’s how you differentiate. let’s figure out how we apply all of this when looking at pictures.

/// what the person’s best color palette does for them:

the outfit works together with the face.

a coherent impression is created.

the features are well-defined.

it’s a ‘wow’ moment. nothing is off.

the whites of the eye are emphasized.

you overlook blemishes; the person looks even and radiant.

a healthy, moderate shine appears.

it compliments the natural hair color (which is always your exact season)

your attention is on the face, not the styling.

the color feels modern, appropriate, interesting.

the right amount of contrast, tying everything together.

/// meanwhile, how you know it’s NOT the individual’s personal color:

their skin appears a lot warmer or cooler than it usually is. #1 dead giveaway.

as i’ve heard korean color analysts say, ‘the head floats’: because it feels so separate from the color. (= too high contrast)

the garment casts weird shadows on their chin/cheeks/under the eyes etc. that don’t come from elsewhere.

it all doesn’t feel healthy and smooth.

it makes the skin seem greyed/dull, maybe paler, even blotchy.

it simply kills the vibe of the outfit. something is off, the clothing suspiciously washes them out. (=wrong undertone)

the color is odd, boring, or chaotic on them.

the jawline suddenly loses all previous definition, blends with the neck. or: the features are unusually severe.

this is basically “style yoongi like a spring (=felix) VS style felix like a winter (=yoongi)”: the difference is immense between warm and cool tones. winter coloring craves so much opposing shades while a spring face is best complimented by no contrast at all. remember: spring is subtle, winter is heavy ammo. felix is a believable blonde because his season is very light and yellow-based.

let’s practice even more and go through all 4 seasons with taeyong’s ever-changing hair. little did we know: if it’s too bright, muted, or warm, his complexion also becomes brighter, softer, and warmer accordingly: to compensate/adapt to the surrounding color/pick up the reflection. but when he wears his best palette that is mostly black-based, it shows his face as it is: cool, strong, intense, and contrasting like winter.

if that’s too difficult, let’s go back to do a simple gold VS silver example. that’s how you can tell that shinee’s taemin is cool-toned.

his recent eras have been more geared toward his undertone that is blue-based and sophisticated (silver, white/grey, blue) rather than warm, bold, and expressive (gold, orange, yellow).

the majority of warm colors look a little overstated or draining on him, while cool tones underline his sexy image just right.

(the bottom left example isn’t a summer type outfit because it’s dark and saturated — but he can still pull it off since winter is also blue-based)

cool and warm tones can be applied to all people’s fashion and hair. what matches their complexion seamlessly, what makes them glow. every human being has a distinct palette.

what may look mediocre on a summer might feel hot on an autumn; every color can be interesting: on the right person. a clear white t-shirt (=cool tone) is meh? think again when a winter type wears it (bts’ taehyung).

meanwhile, make no mistake: finding one’s season has nothing to do e.g. with how tan you are, or eye color. if someone has light skin, they are not automatically light spring or light summer. because ‘light’ is a color family in this system, not a name for a skin tone — just like having dark skin won’t make a person a dark winter or dark autumn type, for instance.

i’ll give an example outside of k-pop. my favorite football player, leroy sané (about time the world learns about this cutie). in his wardrobe, nothing does it like the light and radiant tone of spring. he wears the most extreme warm chroma kits with zero effort: while cool-toned, dark colors could never compete. he glows in bright clothes and exciting warm tones. because... he’s a clear spring type! 😍

or say, if someone is naturally warm blonde: that doesn’t make them a spring or autumn automatically. it’s just that — the other way around! — people who are springs and autumns wear warm hair colors superbly well, e.g. stray kids’ hyunjin.

so this is purely about which patterns of color assimilate the best to you as a holistic impression. the contrast level of your features overall is much more important, and how either cool or warm tones make you come to life. remember, gold or silver, and you need to know how intense they can go.

OVERVIEW

people with a warm skin undertone thrive in colors that are more upbeat, bright and vibrant with less contrast (spring), while others are suited by contrasting golden earth and jewel tones (autumn).

people with a cool skin undertone are flattered by colors that are more light silvery and pastel (summer), while others fit stronger icy tones that feature more extreme black and white contrast (winter).

IMPORTANT CAUTIONARY NOTES:

- that precisely means: some cool/warm tones may not hit home for someone, BUT lighter or darker ones may. trial and error. when analysing, don’t discard something too easily. and: as we saw, some palettes overlap and seemingly share colors. for instance, bright winters can borrow from bright spring types, since they’re both from the bright family. say, jimin can wear some assorted colors of spring AND summer.

still: keep in mind the basic ideas (and how winters always look better in cool shades, while spring is always warm). if he’s a cool tone and his best colors are soft > bright, and light > dark = we can do the math. he’s a summer. taemin is amazingly flattered by hazy, dusky greys — it’s a light muted palette. grey’s not cute and memorable? he can make it so.

or vice versa. if he’s cool toned and bright > soft, and dark > light = he’s a winter, like changkyun. winters thrive on contrast and can’t handle bleach as easily as summers and springs. their face disappears, almost becomes ghost-like. taemin can pull off blonde like it’s nothing, while changkyun needs the depth of dark winter hair, as it wonderfully contours his face. winters look their most sexy and mysterious in very strong hues.

- color analysis takes so much differenciation as color varies so much. a bright warm red (= spring, even winter) might not be bull’s eye for someone because the saturation/chroma is too much, but a soft warm red (= autumn) can. it’s hard to study at first, so sticking with the 4 seasons concept as a beginner can help, long as you remember the 6 color families.

- someone might wear items/hair color from different seasons at the same time. analysis difficulty mode 5000. say, the foundation could be summer, the eye makeup winter, the shirt spring, and the hair autumn. but you can figure out what feels right one by one. bts’ yoongi can wear warm toned orange hair and it’s not in his palette — he’s a cool tone. but depending on the rest of the outfit, the overall impression still works anyway and looks pretty good.

since he’s a winter, he can balance the orange hair with black + silver accessories and pull it off better. too soft grey clothing doesn’t make him pop as much and the hair takes over. there’s a reason why the right-hand version went viral and is hard to forget. yoongi wears his winter palette very often. 💘

- what looks good on someone often resorts to subjective VS objective. what makes someone look radiant and harmonious can be very different to color analyst’s different perspectives and even biases. if you want someone to be season XYZ, you find ways to justify it. that’s why proper analysis means: sifting through dozens and dozens of pictures, and sometimes correcting your typings over and over.

meanwhile, sometimes it’s easy — because the difference is so extreme. consider txt’ yeonjun with warm blonde hair before an orange color background and dark hair before a cool grey backdrop:

- keep in mind that certain seasons will be more prevalent among idols. the colorful spring tone era of kpop has blended into a more cool-tone dominated era in the industry. there’s a trend toward casting winters and summers into agencies, but mostly winter. their range of colors is more flexible and eyecatching, and always ready for a classic black tie event. a bright winter aesthetic is veeery popular for nct’s music videos, for instance (so pretty).

(how do you know it’s not bright spring? it has strong black background contrast and silver in it.)

so, styling examples in warm tones are harder to find and analyse if seemingly all men’s fashion is blue-based and you don’t find comparison pictures. spring is already seldom worn, but autumn concepts like shinee’s are especially rare.

- some body types do some color palettes better than others. if you have heard of kibbe body typing, you’ll know what i mean. if your body type says ok, a vertical line of black color works best for you, but your personal color says you’re a soft or light season instead of a high contrast season? meeting halfway and typing well is even more difficult if you consider kibbe and aren’t a versatile gamine or classic type. i mean look at this recommendation table mess:

- often, people can never seem to agree on a typing online, even experts. everyone has their own approach and tweaks to the theory. the debate can get heated and messy; nobody wants to be wrong despite color analysis being so hard to get right. othertimes, i’ve seen color analysts or forumists type things like ‘ew, person XYZ looks the absolute worst in this color it’s horrible!!’ — i encourage everyone to stay civil and not insult the person you’re typing by saying they look terrible, awful, hideous, gross, nasty, et cetera. and even if a color doesn’t look right, say which one does, end on a positive note. color theory is no excuse or shield to hide behind to call someone ugly.

- lighting/editing/filters can also mess with correct analysis. photo backgrounds can reflect. the issue of artificial vs natural lighting — what helps to type more accurately? (...if you ask me, natural. but color harmony shows indoors anyway, and even in bad lighting.) if the person is wearing major cleavage, their own skin will ‘cancel out’/neutralize the effect of the garment’s color cast on the face. it takes time and effort to learn this system so mistakes sneak in, i constantly err myself. the list goes on. online typings can easily be inaccurate; we’re not doing the analysis in person, with clearly labelled color drapes and palettes under the face as the pros are doing it for consultations.

example: his company can edit and photograph taemin as a deep winter, icy lighting, heavy makeup, black clothes. but unwhitewashed pictures will tell you that all black everything isn’t as spot-on as more gentle summer colors.

winter is too strong and deep. summer is just right, being easygoing and subtle enough.

- always remember that all colors can be made more cool or warm (by adding yellow or blue respectively), dark or light (by adding black or white), soft or bright (by adding or subtracting grey). yellow can be made cool or warm, blue can be made cool or warm. white can be crisp or off-white/beige. there are only a few dealbreakers in this system. for instance, cool seasons struggle with wearing either orange, and light seasons don’t pull off any black, and the warm color family is incompatible with very sharp white. but other than that, remember that any color is always able to be manipulated on a spectrum.

but usually, when you type someone into warm or cool, the difference can be quite glaring and you don’t have to go the extra mile and find them in a cool blue vs a warm blue, for instance. let’s look at felix from stray kids and which tone accentuates his face the best in random colors:

the cool and ashy purple of the dye, the blue-based background, and the black jacket don’t do him any justice. it’s a styling for a winter. instead, felix being a spring is best-complimented by warm blonde hair (guess why he wears it so often, it’s in his palette) and citrus pastels, with warm tone makeup like the peachy coral lip on the right. that’s all we need to check.

- seasonal color analysis works best when the person doesn’t wear makeup and you just observe the effect of the surrounding colors on their face, but then again: makeup is also ‘surrounding color’ and will read as either fitting or separate from the person. let’s look at taeyong:

the fiery red hair and orange eye shadow are mostly yellow-based and therefore suited for a warm undertone. on his cool tone skin, it needs deeper and more blue-based colors, or a strong contrast like on the right. a cool brunette tone and silver jewelry are just natural on him. even a very subtle makeup style can help him dress his season, despite taeyong handling tons of makeup on any given day. moral of the story, long as his outfit is deep-toned enough, he can go for anything except too much yellow-base.

THE SIX COLOR FAMILIES IN DEPTH: EXAMPLES.

to end this post, let’s practice again to sort idols into the big 6. because as long as you got these down, you can type someone on your own.

bts’ namjoon’s color family is gently muted. his stylists don’t go for it often, but he wears beigey-peachy soft tones like no other. there’s a reason why he does honey blonde and brunette hair all the time: his undertone is warm. namjoon is a delicate soft autumn.

shinee’s key is very versatile in fashion, but his color family is cool. very breezy and a bit muted, but mostly full of blue-based greys and browns. not too much winter constrast, this is a more subtle palette. his undertone is cool. kibum is a cool summer.

and finally, stray kids felix as we saw belongs to the warm tones, and the light family. that means minimum contrast and lots of subtle chroma, beige and cream are his forte. the more understated the tint of the clothing and accessories, the better. felix is a light spring.

yep, this can go on and on. i hope you picked up some knowledge bombs from this explanation and feel as intrigued by personal color as i am, do ask if you have any questions and need some help.

cheers and happy researching ✍️ - caro

#seasonal color analysis #kpop #seasonal color #typing #long post #kpop thread #kpop analysis #fashion #kpop fashion #i wanted to properly introduce this to you for so long!!

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a-m-pyra · 1 month

Text

First Burn: Ch1 Madame Seymour's Home for Lost Youth (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

Madame Seymour was a short, curvy woman before her forties, whose head was adorned with high pinned, fiery red hair. She was dressed in red and bejeweled with silver rings, necklace, bracelets and earrings.

She greeted them at the door. Her arms were crossed in front of her, she stood straight, with a black trench coat draped over her shoulders. Because even though the sun had been shining over London since the morning — which, as he learned, wasn't so obvious — there was still blowing a cool autumn wind.

He thought that she looked like Sophia in some way — in some way, because she was sort of the opposite. It was as if someone had changed her color palette — Sophia in light blue, Madame Seymour in dark red. But because of the aura radiating from her, he almost felt as if it was Sophia herself, standing and waiting for him to approach her.

She smiled at him gently and warmly. He noticed the dimple in her left cheek, and as he and Giangio moved even closer to shake hands with her, he noticed the freckles galore — which were everywhere he could see, standing out strongly on her cheeks, nose, and shoulders as soon as she took off her of them a coat inside.

He was immediately struck by the noise that was coming from the right. Ten children, a teenager who was probably not yet eighteen, and a young woman were discussing at the table as they ate breakfast together.

He looked down at his feet, stopping for a moment. Under his feet, he saw an ornate scorpion that decorated the floor. The almost black wood against the deep brown background looked as if it had been burnt.

He felt someone's eyes on him. He glanced furtively toward the dining room, noticing the young woman glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He could get a better look at her — her hair was as dark as his and resembled a sheet of spilled ink in its smoothness and shine, that she was dressed in a dress whose cornflower blue color complimented her beauty, and that her eyes were so intensely green that they could easily compete with malachite or emeralds. She was petting a large dog that seemed to be staring at her like a picture.

He heard Giangio clear his throat, bringing him back to earth and reminding him to follow them. This is what happened; They went up to the second floor, where Mrs. Seymour's office was located. It was cozy, warm, even more so than the rest of the building. A comfortable sofa, armchairs and a chaise longue, plus soft pillows, a lot of different textures and materials, a warm shade of wood, healthy, green plants and pictures on the walls intertwined with children's cards — on the occasion of Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, birthdays, holidays and such which she received without much opportunity.

These children seemed to idolize her, judging by the inscriptions on each of the cards and their number.

Mrs. Seymour sat down at the desk, with him and Giangio right in front of her.

While Giangio and Seymour were talking, he didn't dare to look at her. Instead, he looked at the legion's arm. Venigni stayed up at night with Eugénie especially to make it for him. Now it was not supposed to be used for defense, but for normal functioning. He could install it under his clothes without worrying that the material would interfere with its functionality, and what's more, it no longer looked like a typical mechanical part of his body — they made sure that he didn't have to expose himself to strange looks from the English, making his the new arm looked like a human hand.

He felt strange without a weapon. Strange, as if he was no longer himself. Just knowing that he didn't have to worry about fighting anymore was a strange concept to him.

After all, he had been fighting ever since Sophia had breathed life into him.

“I haven't had the chance to work with the puppet yet, but I will do everything I can to help him.” He heard it and then lifted his head slightly to look at her.

“I'm not a typical puppet,” he whispered, and Mrs. Seymour looked at him and smiled softly.

“It's true,” she admitted. “Maybe you would like to tell me what you would like me to address you, hmm?” She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them

He was never asked about it. His father called him simply Son , Sophia Clever one , Gemini Pal , Venigni Compagno , the people he met along the way, Geppetto's Puppet .

No one asked him his name or what he would like to be called. But now the question made him think that perhaps they were all trying to dehumanize him.

Still, all these puppets had names. Pulcinella, Pollendina, Gemini, Romeo, all the puppets he fought. But he had none.

He clenched his left hand and then relaxed it, ignoring the strange cold and tightness in his chest as he thought about his name. He stole a glance at the extinguished Gemini lamp at his side, resisting the urge to grab the legion's arm and rub it nervously.

“Pinocchio.” He lowered his head again. “Though I'd rather just P.”

Her smile widened.

“It's very nice to meet you, P.”

P noticed that she leaned towards him. Her face was radiant with a sincere smile, concern and joy. He felt himself smile slightly.

Giangio and Mrs. Seymour stood up. He felt that Gemini's lamp was shaking just like he wanted to say something, but he himself realized that he should get up and follow them. They went down to the first floor and Mrs. Seymour opened the door at the end of the corridor, allowing him to enter.

His own room.

It was as cozy as Mrs. Seymour's office. It had a spacious wardrobe, a large desk, a comfortable-looking bed with plenty of pillows and a thick eiderdown. What he liked most was the large bookcase, which still had plenty of space for his own books.

The interior was not much different from the hotel in Krat, and this was probably not so common when it came to orphanages and such centers.

Mrs. Seymour truly made sure that not only her knowledge and skills improved the condition of her patients, but also the environment. So that they can really feel at home and recover in truly comfortable conditions.

P put his suitcase next to the bed and sat on it, bouncing on the pleasantly soft mattress with fascination. Then he touched one of the furry pillows, feeling like he was burying his fingers in Spring's fur.

“I like it,” he announced, and Seymour giggled.

“Okay then, you'll probably want to see Mr. Paracelsus off.”

He nodded and the three of them went downstairs. Giangio adjusted his top hat and patted P on the shoulder, then walked towards the carriage, completely speechless. He drove away, and P followed the carriage with his eyes.

“Would you like to join us for breakfast, P?”

He was about to unpack his things.

Contrary to what he expected, there weren't many of them. A few sets of clothes and some vinyl records were all he could take. He didn't need weapons, and he didn't have any trivia to pack in his suitcase.

He figured he'd do that later, when he had some free time, and he nodded as he followed Mrs. Seymour into the dining room, where everyone was still sitting with warm tea and leftovers.

Mrs. Seymour grabbed him lightly by the shoulders and said, “My dears, please meet P, he will be staying with us for a while.”

The monstrously large dog barked as if happily, and after a while there were whispers from the girls. P looked at Mrs. Seymour, and she laughed and scolded them playfully.

“P, please meet Otto,” She pointed to the red-haired teenager, who smiled broadly as he held a cup in his hands, “Charlie, Dodo, Diggie, Toby,” She approached the four boys one by one, the blond, the one with glasses, the boy with curly, dark hair and an eight-year-old with a gap between his teeth, “Abigail, Inez, Angela, Mila and Betty.” One by one, she placed her hands on the head of a girl with pigtails, a darker complexion and two buns on her head, a blonde girl, a girl who had bows everywhere, and a girl with ponytails. “And these are my daughters, Alice and Clara, and my faithful companion Cormac.”

P glanced at Alice, appreciating every detail of her face like a porcelain doll. Appreciating the way her lips parted as they looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Then they both turned their heads, and P was glad he couldn't blush — or at least he deeply hoped he couldn't.

Cormac walked up to him and started sniffing him.

He had rather experiences with cats — one in particular. Hence, the sight of the dog filled him with anxiety, especially because it looked so large that if it stood on its hind legs it would only be slightly shorter than him.

Cormac, however, did not attack him as he expected from his menacing appearance. He lay down at his feet, scratching the floor in front of him and looking into his eyes.

“He wants you to pet him!” Abigail exclaimed, and P wondered if he should do it the same way he did with Spring, or if the dogs should be petted differently.

He pursed his lips and crouched down, hanging his hand over the dog and the dog pushing its head under it. P carefully stroked his head, noting how gentle this intimidating giant was.

“Let me show you something,” Charlie announced and crouched down next to him, only to start scratching Cormac behind the ear.

Cormac began to lie on the floor, wagging his tail happily and laying on his back.

“He loves having his ears scratched!” he added, then scratched his stomach and stood up.

“Wash your hands before you eat, Charlie,” Mrs. Seymour pointed out.

“Of course, Alex!” he shouted, running to the bathroom. He returned a moment later, returning to the table, and Seymour crouched down next to P and grabbed his arm,

“Why don't you sit down at the table, hmm?”

P nodded and sat down next to the redhead. Otto, if he remembered correctly.

Mrs. Seymour, on the other hand, sat at the head of the table, opposite her older daughter.

“Where are you from, P?” Inez asked, trying to brush a stray curl from her forehead that had come out of one of the buns.

“From Krat…”

Dodo and Diggie sighed happily.

“It's a puppet city!” said Dodo.

“How amazing!” Diggie added. “We were going to go there, but Alex said it wasn't safe there. Apparently they rebelled.”

P brushed his hair back, feeling everyone looking at him.

“Unfortunately, yes, and that made them very dangerous. I know something about that,” he said, and interested murmurs echoed around the dining room. “I had to hunt them.”

The boys suddenly dropped their jaws in shock and jumped up in their chairs.

“Were you a puppet hunter?” Toby leaned against the table with his arms bent. “How cool!”

P felt like getting up and going for a walk. He didn't expect such interest. His body tingled, and suddenly his legs began to hurt terribly.

Until now, he didn't think he could feel pain at all.

“Okay kids, finish eating, and we'll help Ms. Sharpe clean up, then you can play before your sessions.”

P was grateful to Mrs. Seymour. It seemed that she noticed the tension that was building within him, and that he himself didn't have the heart not to answer them to the barrage of questions that were unfolding somewhere on the horizon.

“Thank you, Mrs. Seymour.”

“I know how difficult it can be, and they don't always know moderation.” She patted his hand lightly on his lap.

The children were playing, Mrs. Seymour was helping the housekeeper wash the dishes, and Alice had left the orphanage before ten o'clock — something told him to talk to her, but he didn't particularly have the courage to do so. He tried to stop his thoughts by unpacking his things, but they kept coming back to him and made him pause for a moment.

“I think you're tired, pal.”

P looked over his shoulder at Gemini's lamp. He sighed and shook his head.

“It's not tired.”

“So you're just lost in thought. I hope you don’t go back to what happened with… you know.”

P pursed his lips and hung his shirt on the hanger.

“No. I try not to think about it.”

“Hmm? So what is it about?”

He was about to come up with a neat lie when there was a knock on the door. However, he didn't have time to answer, because after a while he saw red hair and a freckled face peeking out from behind the open door.

“Well, listen, it was really good, you know? Incredible.”

P froze in place and Otto went inside and sat on the bed.

“I don't understand.”

“Well, your story. A puppet hunter who looks like you... damn, that would be a good story for a play or a book. Some kind of love story, probably…”

P didn't quite understand what Otto meant. Looks like him? What's that supposed to mean? What love? So far, he has had deeper contact with three women. Lady Antonia was his mother figure, as was Sophia — who always wanted him to do as he wanted, unlike his father. Then there was Eugénie — and although he thought she was a lovely person and liked her very much, he never saw her as a possible lover — more of a, well, sister-type.

He feared that his life as a puppet hunter was much less epic than Otto would have liked to imagine.

In addition, he felt like he was between a rock and a hard place. He had the choice of going back to talking about his thoughts with Gemini, or talking about the Puppet Frenzy and fighting them with Otto. He didn't feel like doing either.

Especially since telling someone other than Mrs. Seymour didn't seem therapeutic to him — more traumatic, especially since he couldn't quite tell how Otto would react when he would tell him everything.

Giangio said that Mrs. Seymour would have no right to judge him; but anyone else could have done it.

“I don't know what you're thinking…” he paused for a moment, trying to choose his words correctly — talking to others was still a bit difficult for him, “but it's not an epic love story at all.”

“So there was no knight on a white horse and no damsel in distress?”

P shook his head.

“There was oil and people who were mad at me for absolutely no reason and tried to kill me.”

“Still epic enough.”

A quiet, irritated snort escaped P's lips unconsciously.

“You don't seem to be the carousing type, are you?”

P looked at him over his shoulder and reached into his suitcase for his vest.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, big groups of friends, partying in bars, lovers…”

“Somehow I haven't had time for this before, you know?”

“I guess. But you wouldn't want to have time for this?”

P thought for a moment, looking at Gemini's lamp, hoping it would help him a little. But Gemini didn't speak.

P looked down and hung the vest in the closet.

“That's right, I'm not the carousing type.”

“Well. I won't force you to do anything. However, Ms. Sharpe asked us to help her with the delivery of products. There are two of us, plus the delivery person. It will go faster.”

P nodded and closed the closet as he and Otto went downstairs to the kitchen, where the delivery boy was fighting with a sack of potatoes. P walked over to it and helped him pick it up, earning surprised looks from both Otto and the delivery man.

He looked at them questioningly, then understood what they meant.

“I fought giant puppets. It’s not even that heavy.”

Otto laughed and P turned away to hide his slight embarrassment and carry the bag into the pantry.

The work went by quickly — in fact, the three of them, and with the strength of P, managed to deal with it extremely efficiently, because after just a dozen or so minutes the car was empty, and the pantry was topfull.

The delivery man took off his flat cap in greeting and drove away. However, in his place, a portly woman appeared, dressed as a housekeeper. P guessed it must have been Ms. Sharpe.

She grabbed Otto's shoulder and patted him on the back in thanks. Then she looked at him and smiled slightly.

“Well, I guess you must be P. Thank you for your help too.”

P nodded, smiling back.

“Okay, you can go about your business. I'll drag these rascals to peel potatoes. Dinner will be before two o'clock.”

“Skip one portion,” P muttered, and Ms. Sharpe looked at him questioningly. “I… well… I just can't eat.”

Nan slapped her hand on her forehead and nodded.

“Oh, yes, I understand. I’m sorry.”

He only assured that there was no problem and went upstairs, intending to hide in his room again. He was interrupted by Charlie, who ran up to him with a smile, announcing that Mrs. Seymour was calling him into her office for his first session.

He glanced towards his bedroom door, wondering if he should or even could take Gemini with him. Then his eyes fell on Charlie again, and he walked into the office without a word.

He took a breath and knocked on the door, walking inside as soon as he heard permission to enter.

Mrs. Seymour sat behind her desk with a cup of coffee at her side. P could smell it and wished he could eat or drink. He wondered about the taste of food and drinks — and he could only imagine them.

When he sat down, Mrs. Seymour asked him for a story. How did it all start. What he went through. What was the end.

Talking about his father was difficult. He felt inside that this was not how a father should behave, although in his head the thought appeared that maybe this was how it should be.

He talked about Lady Antonia, slightly lifting the corner of his mouth when he talked about the most wonderful voice in all of Krat. The smile only left his lips when he started talking about how he wished he could have spent a little more time with her.

Mrs. Seymour did not interrupt him once, only writing something down in her notebook from time to time. He noticed how different her typeface was. Sometimes she wrote sweepingly, other times long letters ended straight, without any loops. Sometimes she wrote in cursive, other times straight. Sometimes the E was made of dashes, other times it was a mirror image of a three — she crossed out the first one most often, and he could see her knitting her eyebrows.

He usually saw regular writing and wondered what could be causing this variability, which could occur even within a single word.

He fell silent, looking at her. She noticed this, asking him to continue.

“I think that's it…”

She muttered, setting the quill aside.

“Tell me, what do you associate with Geppetto?”

P thought for a moment.

“Or I have a better idea.” She stood up and rummaged through one of the drawers, pulling out some cards. “Now I should shuffle them and put them face down, but we'll do it differently this time.”

She opened the yellow aluminum box and unfolded the cards with various drawings on them. They depicted various areas of life, some of them depicting fantastic characters — the Emperor, the Empress, the Fool, or the Magician.

“Draw out the cards that remind you of your father.”

P looked at them, trying to pick out details that would tell him what the cards meant — any he didn't understand, he discarded. He drew The Emperor, The Pope, The Chariot, The Death, King of Swords, Five of Cups, Two, Three, and Seven of Swords. He also made an exception for The Moon — because even though he didn't fully understand this card, something told him he should draw it.

Alex was silent for a moment, resting the lower part of her face on her intertwined fingers.

“And if you were to tell me what you felt then and now, would you rather talk about it or present it in some way?”

P scratched the back of his right hand — not that it was itchy, he did it completely on reflex, hoping it would ease the strange feeling that was inside him.

“I'm just starting to learn how to talk about emotions,” he paused and looked at the cards in front of him. “In Krat I didn't think about them, and in fact, the first time I felt something was the death of Lady. Antonia. Such a tightness in the chest; weight.”

“Sadness.”

He nodded.

“So you don't have a problem with basic feelings. But if you had to tell me more about it. About what's on your mind. Would you rather show it or discuss it?”

“Show; but I don't know anything that could perfectly describe my thoughts. Talking about it seems… pretentious. Like I shouldn't talk about it.”

“That's nonsense. Each of us feels something, me, the children, my daughters, Otto, Nan. Even you.”

Alex opened the desk cabinet and searched it carefully.

“You said you're not an ordinary puppet-” She placed the object on her lap, “and I agree with that. When I look at you, I see someone in between. You may have springs and gears and pistons in your body, but you act like a human, feel like a human, think like a human and use defense mechanisms like a human.” She placed a sketchbook in front of him. “I bought it thinking that I would write down notes from the session in it, and then I threw it away in favor of this notebook.”

Mrs. Seymour's notebook was full of bookmarks, loose pages and numerous traces of use on the leather cover.

“Children have pencils in a container. It's on the shelf in the living room.”

“I can’t draw.”

“That’s nothing. Your drawings don't have to be perfect. They are meant to represent what is going on in your head. People, thoughts, whatever you want. Every session, you'll give it to me to look over, and we'll see what you've drawn, hmm?”

She smiled slightly at him. He returned the smile.

“All right.”

“Well then. Sketch your mind for me, and then we'll think about what to do next.”

P heard the children running down the stairs to the dining room, ready for afternoon tea — but he was so fixated on sketching what was on his mind that he only curled up his legs tighter on the couch and bowed his head to hide his work.

He really didn't want anyone but Mrs. Seymour to see it. He felt intimidated by the thought of someone else looking into what he thought. What he felt.

He heard the door open quietly and heels click. After a while, he saw the cornflower blue fabric of the dress out of the corner of his eye.

He closed his sketchbook and sat up straight, returning the slight smile he saw on Mrs. Seymour's older daughter's face.

“She used the same tactic with me.”

P opened his mouth.

He didn't think people couldn't describe their emotions, either. He attributed it to the puppets, especially himself. After all, he didn't know if other puppets felt emotions too.

“Does Mrs. Seymour do this often?”

She thought for a moment and shrugged.

“I don't think so. Children are usually effusive. Otto knows his feelings better than anyone and has no problem expressing what he thinks.”

He looked at Gemini's lamp. He was quiet except for his natural chirping sounds.

“Would you like to sit down?”

“No, I'll sit at the table, I don't want to disturb you.”

“You're not disturbing me.”

She glared at him, then set her bag on the coffee table, right next to Gemini's lamp, and sat down next to him on the couch.

They were silent for a moment. P wondered what to do now. He felt his heart flutter slightly as he tried to think of something.

“You left before ten. Something happened?”

Alice looked at him and took off her shoes, tucked her legs in and leaned on the armrest.

“No, everything was fine. I work in a theater, I sew costumes. I was going to work at ten o'clock.”

A big red exclamation mark appeared in his head. It worked, he found something they could talk about.

She could. She could tell him about her work, what is happening in the theater and what it all looks like behind the scenes. And he could listen to her, sometimes just asking for details.

Then, at dinner, she got up to get for herself a portion of food and returned to him to continue talking about her work.

“I feel stupid for only talking about myself.”

P smiled slightly.

“It doesn’t bother me. I don't want to talk about what I had to do.”

“So, maybe what you would like to do?” She rested her head on her hand, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I haven't had time to think about it yet,” he admitted. “But the set designer job you talked about sounds interesting.”

“Oh? Maybe a conservator?”

“The set designer sounds better. It's work-”

“Man, isn't this romantic? Just look at that sunset”

They both jumped, spotting Otto leaning against the wall and looking out the window.

“Right, sunset.” Alice rose from the sofa. “I should go home. The streets of London get dangerous after dark.”

“I think you can hang out some more. P will definitely be happy to accompany you.” Otto grinned and P looked at him, trying to understand what he meant.

“Thank you, but I'll be fine,” she assured, and after saying goodbye to Mrs. Seymour, she left the orphanage, bidding farewell to P with a quick wave.

“Well, well.”

P looked at Otto questioningly.

“What?”

“Nothing, that's just what I was told without a reason.” He shrugged and, putting his hands in his pockets, headed for the stairs, whistling.

“Otto, no whistling!” Mrs. Seymour exclaimed irritably, and Otto uttered a quick apology and ran upstairs.

P sighed and grabbed Gemini's lamp to go to his room as well.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Seymour.”

“Good night, P. Get some sleep.”

P smiled to himself. Thanks to the fact that he began to gain humanity, he was able to fall asleep normally. Sleep turned out to be pleasant, sometimes even necessary, and in a way he was glad that he could finally rest.

He put Gemini on the shelf and started changing into something more comfortable, first unfastening his legion arm and placing it next to the bed.

Gemini activated right after P got into bed and snuggled into one of the pillows, smiling to himself as an image of Alice appeared in his mind, happy as she talked about her job and the people she worked with.

And about the fact that she often had the opportunity to work with Mrs. Seymour because she performed on the stage of this theater.

“Okay, so that's it,” Gemini said. “You were thinking about Alice then.”

“She is nice.”

“And you like the way she looks.”

“She's pleasing to the eye.”

“That's what I'm talking about.”

“I won't talk to you about it. I'm too tired.” He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep.

But then he opened them again and smiled like a fool.

#alice madness returns #american mcgee's alice #alice liddell #lies of p #pinocchio lies of p #alice x pinocchio #p x alice #oc: alex seymour #oc: otto #american mcgee's alice oc #alice madness returns oc #alice madness returns fanfiction #american mcgee's alice fanfiction #lies of p fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3fic

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brooklynislandgirl · 1 month

Text

borrowed with grace from new friend Vee over @reyestr

FIRST MEETINGS MEME

A meme for first meetings and introduction threads, aka a ‘What you will notice about my muse first’ cheat sheet.

Repost, don’t reblog. Bold what applies. Fill in details.

(Please do not remove the credit + blank meme link)

blank meme: x

GENERAL APPEARANCE

Sex: Masculine. Feminine. Non-Binary. Notes: Beth was born a cis-gender female and most of the time she's comfortable in that shape/body.

Race: Polynesian/Caucasian {Hawai'ian and Irish, respectively, or as she'd say it, hapa-haole}

Complexion: Beth's natural skin tone is a tawny/dusky shade that might be compared to sand or toast. Most public photos taken of her tend to lighten her skin as much as possible per the Admiral's request. When she spends her time out-doors she tans easily and resembles more her Island kin than the Irish side of the family. Beth tends to wear minimal make up, and when she's doing a dramatic look she usually sticks to eye make up and bold lipsticks, highlighting what she considers her best features. Upon closer inspection one might notice a small constellation of tiny freckles that hover around the right side of her mouth and chin, and another sweep of fainter freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her skin tone leans towards the autumn spectrum, and it is incredibly fine, soft.

Height: Beth is just barely five feet tall.

Body Type: Endomorph. Mesomorph. Ectomorph. Other / More Details: Beth is actually somewhat underweight for her size, ranging between 90-96 lbs. Most of her curves tend to remain in her hips and backside, and her chest is narrow, sporting a very modest b-cup.

Body Build: Small. Medium. Athletic. Muscular. Soft. Curvy. Voluptuous. Other / More Details: Beth has been called small, delicate, bird-boned. From behind or at a minor distance, she has been mistaken for a young teen or larger child. It is hard for her to put on or maintain muscle tone.

Body Hair: None. Shaves/Waxes. Trims/Grooms. Untamed. Color: The colour on her arms and legs matches that of her hair, a dark to medium dark brown. Notes: Beth's body hair tends to be incredibly fine, almost non-existent, and thus she doesn't feel the need to wax or shave very often.

Head Hair: None. Buzzed. Short. Medium. Long. Very Long. Asymmetrical Cut. Color: Naturally Beth has dark brown almost black hair with natural red highlights. Occasionally she might do a subtle colour, either deep auburn or honey-brown. Style: Beth tends to style her hair to within an inch of its life, keeping it sleek and straight so that the Admiral has nothing to complain about. Naturally it tends to be incredibly wavy/curly {3b hair}, with a tendency to become a touch frizzy in moist/damp air. Most of the time Beth keeps her hair long and loose. For work it's in a ponytail or bun, and when her mental health is at its absolutely lowest, she hacks it pretty much down to a bob.

Eye color: Beth has green/brown central heterochromia,which is what most people call hazel. Her noticible colour is green, with an almost honey brow mixed in. It is a far softer colour than her brother's.They tend to shift colour via lighting or dilation of the pupil. Details: Wide, upturned eyes tend to give her a Disney-Princess look. Her lashes are naturally long and thick.

Scars: Beth's left leg has a large shark-bite scar from the bottom of her knee to the top of her ankle. Within the borders of the scar the muscle is visibly atrophied and has the texture of something close to a burn scar. The tendons are shortened, making her left leg a fraction shorter than her right.

FASHION

Fashion Style: Vintage. Traditional. Casual. Artsy. Vibrant. Geeky/Nerdy. Tomboy. Sporty. Trendy. Preppy. Girly. Bohemian. Elegant. Formal. Grunge. Punk. Rocker. Gothic. Other:

Color Palette: Beth tends to wear seasonal colours {lighter pastels in the spring and summer, darker secondary colours in the fall and winter}.

Typical Clothing: Beth tends to wear as little clothing as she can manage without making a scene. During warm weather she tends toward camisole tops or bikinis. She tends to wear ankle/floor length skirts. For work, she wears scrubs. Beth does. not. wear. pants. unless she's out jogging, doing yoga, or wearing a wet-suit. And while she has a walk-in closet full of designer and custom gowns and other clothing, the kinds of which would make Paris Fashion Week drool in their dreams, she tends to prefer vintage clothing.

Piercings: Beth's ears are pierced in multiple places which differ from ear to ear. She has a sub-dermal piercing at her hip.

Tattoos: Beth has a tattoo of a honu {sea turtle} on the back of her left hip, whose shell contains the Hawai'ian archipelago and a hibiscus flower. Other tattoos vary verse to verse.

Other Information: Beth tends to hate shoes and will wear 'slippahs' whenever she can get away with it. At home she tends to be barefoot, or during cold snaps, she might tolerate socks. She likes to wear rings, bracelets, earrings when not at work. She keeps her nails manicured.

EXPRESSION

General Facial Expression: Beth's features tend to be open, friendly, and at worst, neutral.

Default Body Language: As stated above, she tends to have open, inviting body language that changes only when/if she has disengaged with someone, or it's the Admiral. Around the Admiral her body language is closed, defensive, on the verge of flight/fight.

General Movements: Beth's incredibly graceful from a lifetime of surfing, swimming, dance. She tends to flow through the room, slow and cautious. The longer she has been awake, or the longer she's been on her feet, it becomes apparent that she does have a faint limp, due to shortened tendons and ligaments, atrophied muscle in her shark-scarred leg.

NOTABLE FOR RP

Presence: Beth's entire presence rests on the fact that she is warm and gracious, curious until she's given reason not to. Everyone is treated like a friend. As such, she tends to be a soothing comfort, and someone a person can open up to easily.

Appearance: Beth is always perfectly dressed for every situation, impeccably garbed in public, perfect but often subtle make up. This does not carry through to being at home where she feels comfortable.

Scent: She makes her own essential oils/lotions and people tend to describe her as tropical; lightly floral, a touch of sea salt, coconut, macadamia, something very faintly herbal. Too soon after work, she tends to carry the smell of hospital antiseptics {and/or blood}.

Voice Description: Her voice tends to surprise people. Being so short and slight, most people expect her to have a high/thin/child-like voice. She speaks so softly that she rarely speaks above an audible whisper, and her tones tend to be a little husky/smokey, warm, layered. When she does have to raise her voice, it is the kind that doesn't brook arguments and carries the tone of command of a queen or a soldier, though she is neither.

Accent: yes / no More information: Beth has always had problems with certain digraphs {th in particular} and is most comfortable speaking her native pidgin with a slight speech impediment. She can, however, speak perfectly serviceable "Haole" {American English}. She also understands a host of other languages, and takes a small measure of pride in being able to pick local idioms/slang easily, despite her audio processing disorder.

Speech Mannerisms: Beth tends to be a touchy person; conveying meaning or clarity with minor touching of other people's hands, knees, shoulders when speaking closely. She also tends to gesticulating while she's talking. When she speaks "Haole" it is far slower, measured, careful than when speaking pidgin, with slight pauses occasionally as she struggles with a phrase or sounding out words in her head. When conversing with someone, she tends to watch the person's mouth and eye area to pick up contextual clues and mouth-shapes to help bolster her understanding.

Anything else to add? Beth tends to sometimes come across as the most real person in the room, is magnetic despite her best efforts. However, if she doesn't want to engage with someone, she tends to slowly slip away from their thoughts/memories, until she is absolutely forgotten. Perhaps the eeriest noticible trait is that she never fully blinks. Her eyes tend to only half close, three quarters at best. {It almost feels like she's missing a nictitating membrane}. The second most noticible trait is that she has small, sharp teeth, almost preternaturally so, and slightly crooked. {{Certain kinds of hunters and others like her recognise these as 'primal markings' and might speak to her slightly less than human dna}} {{Beth's main face claim is Kristin Kreuk, and her secondary face claim is Smiley Arianne}}

#She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms}#Character Study/Self Explanation

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